Shadow's Embrace
by General Herbison
Summary: Sequel to Minion Mistress. The war rages on between the factions of the world for power and supremacy. Magic and technology clash in battle to establish their right to rule. Who shall emerge from the blood and carnage victorious? Who shall rule over the Dark Domain? The tales of legend have always had a lasting whisper to warn of a terrible vengeance. Evil, always finds a way.
1. Prologue - A New Cycle

**General Maraxus: Hello readers and welcome to the much anticipated sequel to Minion Mistress. Of course I claim none of the credit as the magnificent Sunjinjo was the guiding hand behind this story. Now, let us review what has transpired since last we met our beautiful Minion Mistress ,Jinx.**

**Prologue – A New Cycle**

Blue eyes shut tightly, and then widened.

And the forest was startled by the first shrill cries of a newborn, white-haired baby.

Amidst the blue shadows of Evernight, queen Fay of the elves stared at her newborn child.

"No," she whispered. "Mother Goddess, I can't let this happen."

And as the cries of the child changed tone, she went to work. The shadows deepened.

Once upon a time, there was... an ending.

And the Minions were fleas on the best dog they could wish for, maggots with the tastiest carcass, pimples on the most outspoken face. For years and years they took everything they wanted, pushed their borders back to all compass directions, enclosed the realms of men further and further. The age of the Minion Mistress was a golden age for the Netherworld, and Jinx's kind enjoyed it to the fullest. The peoples of Nordberg and Ruboria pledged their alliance to the Netherworld, the Wasteland shrunk as legions of blue Minions forced the ooze back ever further, Spree and Angelis were repopulated once again and started offering large parts of their harvest to the dark ruler. The subterranean network of caves and tunnels almost burst, the Minion population was growing so fast.

Multiple times it came to a clash with the Glorious Empire and its new Emperor, former Overlord Sayron, but though large battles took place at the borders of the Empire and the Netherworld, the losing side always gave in gracefully – and both sides lost about an equal amount of times. It came to a stable equilibrium at the borders.

And far away across the sea Everlight, once the sacred island of the elves, but now taken over by the Netherworld completely, bloomed with dark glory. Giant bats wheeled freely through the skies, all accustomed to Minions and their Mistress, and the giant spiders dared to venture further and further from their temple lake.

It seemed to have come to a calm, stable age, for the first time since very long. But in this world not much was ever what it seemed, and as long as there would be Overlords, something would go wrong in the end.

Horribly wrong.

It was Jinx' own fault, ultimately. From Ruboria, which she'd conquered early on, she kept on advancing northward; deeper and deeper into the Golden Mountain range, which had been the unchallenged domain of the dwarves, in their hidden halls and fortresses, for centuries on end. Perhaps she thought the dwarves had been defeated when Lord Vessperion had slain their king, Goldo Golderson. Perhaps she thought they were no match for her. And perhaps they weren't, at least in the beginning.

For a few weeks she ventured around the heart of the mountain range undisturbed. Then the dwarves started hitting back.

They seemed to have built up their old technology once again; rebuilt and _improved_. As the Overlady and her Minions were driven out of the mountains it was by a wall of metal, advancing mercilessly – unstoppable now the dwarves had finally been provoked. It rained fire and bombs, and the mountains were stained dark with Minion blood. And it did not stop at the end of the mountain range. The dwarves now knew they were strong, and after all that time of hiding and silent progress they finally burst out of their stronghold, just like the Minions had emerged from theirs years earlier. Careful scouting missions in the mountains told the Overlady the dwarves had built up a new city during her reign, a mighty stronghold in the western outlyers, close to the sea, where volcanic activity wasn't rare; the new threat came from Stodir, a heaving, pounding, giant mountain keep crowned by a monstrous, fiery crater.

Much faster than anyone had ever foreseen they took back the outlyers of the Golden Mountain range, and from there they rolled over Ruboria and the Heartland. The people who'd returned to the former Wasteland were forced to pledge loyalty to the new dwarven king, Thorlond Datan Dur – or Iron Fist, as he was soon called across the realms. The Mellow Hills were added to the new power, then the barely rebuilt Angelis.

The Overlady fought back, and a little later the Emperor followed her example, but the iron fist only tightened its grip. Dwarven balloons and steam ships crossed the northern mountains and western ocean, and in the turbulent years that followed the dwarves carved out outposts in Nordberg and Everlight with fire and metal. Slowly but surely the influences of Sayron and Jinx shrunk, until they possessed little more than their own domains – the Empire and the Netherworld.

The Empire was the first to fall to the Iron Fist. The dwarves stormed the marble Palace, and to this day no one knows what happened inside that day. What is known, it that Sardok, the twenty-year-old son of the Emperor and his ginger Empress, was enforced as his successor; a straw man of king Thorlond in his far-off mountain stronghold. No one ever saw the old Emperor since then.

And then came the fateful day that the balloon pilots above the northern mountains caught sight of the Black Gate. There was fighting on the endless stairs leading down, so fierce that bits of the walls blocked the path and the deeper parts were flooded with so much magma it streamed out in the Netherworld itself, but the dwarves weren't stopped. They still remembered Goldo's fate; they wouldn't allow any of Vessperion's successors to live, let alone sit on the throne.

They practically drilled themselves down through the tunnel, enlarging the passage so far they could even fit the airships through. And they reached the Netherworld itself, the first invading power to ever succeed in doing so.

There was fighting at the Barracks, there was fighting above the abyss and there was fighting in the Tower. Eventually the throne room itself rang with the clash of weaponry, the rattle of dwarven machinery and the whistle of pure magic. To no avail.

Zephyros, the giant bat who'd accompanied the Overlady for years, by now with dull patches in his coat, tried to defend his mistress with everything he had in him; hissing, spitting, biting and clawing he fell out to the dwarven invaders, and he managed to bite a few of them in half or fling them out of the Tower altogether through the gate or the hole above the throne, but none of that could prevent what happened next. A combined effort of multiple dwarven bombers flung him against the throne room wall, the magnificent carvings crumbling beneath the violence, and another impact crushed his skull beyond every hope of recovery. A high shriek was cut off, and another, full of pain and grief, resounded from the heart of the hall.

Jinx, the Minion Mistress, was flinging around so much fire she could barely see how the last shred of her domain collapsed around her. No inferno known to man could blot out the pounding of the airships just outside the Tower, however, or the death cries of her Minions. She knew all their names…

_Hoarse. Simmer. Miko. Meph._ Zephyros.

Gone. All gone. They died, one after the other, exploded, skewered, crushed, every last cry like a knife to her heart.

She should never have tried to take the mountains.

Thus her last desperate thought crossed her mind, just before the arrow struck its target.  
The dwarves had always used crossbows, but now new weapons had emerged from their technological revolution, which could effortlessly pierce bodies and armour alike. This long shaft slid through the Minion Mistress' back- and breastplate without faltering, between her ribs, and if it hadn't struck her heart, the second and third definitely did.

Jinx fell, in the middle of the throne room, and she stayed down as the invaders marched back to the prow platform around her, where the floating rock just docked, covered in blood and with missing shards lost in the battles above the abyss. After the crushing losses of the past days, weeks, _months_, she didn't have a single spark of healing magic left in her body.

The Minion Mistress just barely managed to hoist her upper body up as she slowly bled to death, and drag herself to the prow platform. There she watched, powerless as the airships crossed the void to the Barracks, to the place where her Minions were born and lived, where the irreplaceable Hives were kept.

There was nothing she could do as the dwarves took her Hives. Eventually her outstretched hand hung limply over the edge, and her blood dripped off her motionless, clawed fingertips, into the void…

And from the Black Gate in the northern mountains the dwarven legions eventually streamed out, the wall of iron, the merciless Iron Fist. The airships rose into the sky once more. The Hives left the Netherworld, for the first time in more than twenty years.

A new cycle had finally begun. Evil had fallen.

But in this world not much was ever what it seemed.

Long after the last dwarves had left the mountain slope, days after any living creature had ventured close to the Black Gate, a hunched, cloaked figure clambered from the gaping hole. Yellow eyes narrowed in the first real daylight they'd seen in a long time.

Above the figure's head a slightly glowing rock dangled from a protruding stick. He looked up at it for a moment. A light – to guide him in dark times, dark places. For though he knew Evil would always find a way, he also knew it wouldn't be easy.

Very far away, in the south, he felt a shadow of a shadow...

One foot before the other. And before you knew it, all that was left was a line of clawed footprints in the snow.

Far from there a young elf with snowy white hair dreamt of other dark times and places. He had no idea of the events in the far north, but they'd reach him very soon, all by themselves.

The shadows had deepened once again.


	2. Darkness in the Light

**Welcome back fellow fans of the Minion Mistress saga, welcome to the first chapter of Shadow's Embrace. The sequel to our dear Jinx's rise to power as Overlady of the Dark Domain. This story stills stands as being supplied by the ever gracious Sunjinjo who has allowed me to post her story here for you to enjoy. Enjoy.**

**Darkness in the Light**

Wild water, frothing waves, crushing undertow. 

Open ocean… of the worst kind. And he was in the middle of it all.  
An old, familiar nightmare unfolded, clear and unchanged, precisely the way it'd been on the day he'd experienced it, years ago. 

He knew how it'd gotten to this. They'd reached the forest of Evernight… the Iron Fist of the dwarves had closed itself around it, with less mercy than even the Overlady had ever shown them. She had tried to take the forest in the past, but before she'd managed to do it the mountains had turned against her, and now the mountains had done the same to them, the elves. And with an old vengeance. The dwarves had always been at war with them, and they'd gotten good at it. 

Their queen, Fay, had tried to flee back to the sacred island, Everlight, as the Overlady had already lost it by then and the dwarves didn't seem to settle well – the damp jungle wasn't friendly on their machines or their beer. But before the elegant ships ever caught sight of those green shores, the dwarven steam ships had descended upon them. 

And the open ocean, whipped up by the wind and dwarven cannons, had welcomed them.  
He'd been so much younger then, and he'd barely been able to keep his head above the surface as the remains of their ship plunged into the ocean around him, the chittering of gnomes and fairies and the desperate whinnies of the unicorns they'd taken along slowly died away in the wind, and he furiously tried to look around in search of his mother… 

Then, very suddenly, she'd been there, her dark hair loosened from the intricate braids and loops indicating her status by the salt water, and she'd flung her arms around him. 

"It's alright, Estell," her voice rang back to him through the years, still as clear as on the day itself; her tone warm, but the words faltering because of the cold and the effort to keep both of them afloat. 

A blue flame ignited, and blinded him. 

The next thing he remembered was another blinding light – almost white, in a parchment sky, beating down on him like a fist of trembling heat. Gritty sand absorbed much of the water soaking him already, leaving only salt. 

But there were others. His mother, queen Fay, had outstretched her magic and saved everyone she could find. A large part of their people was safe, and out of reach of the dwarves, even though the ships had been wrecked and they'd never reach Everlight again… they'd reached the closest shore. 

They'd reached _another_ shore, of a land elves would never have entered willingly… a land where green was a rare hue, and every shadow, so familiar in their cool forests, fled from the burning sun. 

Ruboria. 

A warm voice reached him. He looked up, into friendly blue eyes. "Estell… don't be scared. We're safe now." 

Then the dream changed, and his mother's face vanished, to be replaced by a soaring view across the same desert he'd just washed up in, the way he did in his dreams more often than he wanted to remember. 

He was standing on a high rocky plateau, and the Sea of Sand stretched out far below him, almost painfully clear. 

A long row of tiny figures travelled across the sand very fast. He narrowed his eyes, and he knew what they were. 

Slavers. 

They were never really safe.

"Estell?" 

Blue eyes opened, in pleasant cool shadow, and looked straight up into another pair. A pair of glowing, pupil-less blue openings in whirling, almost pure darkness. 

Shadow, the familiar presence who'd been with him as long as he could remember, hung above him like a perfect mirror image as he slowly awoke from his dream. He was hazy, but the shape of an elven youth was clearly recognizable in him – with purely blue eyes, however, and long hair just as black as the rest of his body. No one else seemed to be able to see him, but Estell had long since come to the conclusion his imaginary friend, as his mother had disposed of him, didn't entail his own insanity. 

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Good morning, Shadow…" He started to hoist himself up, but stopped as his companion didn't stop staring at him worriedly. "Shadow, is something wrong?" 

"Bad news, Estell. That second part of the dream came from me." 

The elven boy supported himself on his arms and groaned. Shadow and him sometimes shared thoughts and almost always dreams, though his dark mirror image never really slept. He knew exactly what this meant. "Slavers? _Again?_" 

"They're still here. A large group this time. They have dwarven bombs." 

Estell sprung from his living vine-woven hammock, shot into his clothes and ran.

The elven fugitives, driven out of Evernight years before and denied Everlight, had hidden away well in an enormous cave, in a rock formation half buried under the Ruborian desert sands. Their queen had set up such a hideaway earlier, and she and a few other gifted green mages hadn't taken long to garland the dark, bare rock in a true jungle of green and colourful blossoms, lit by shafts of sunlight shining in through cracks in the rock, and the ever-present lights in the air that followed the elven queen everywhere. The rock still predominated, because even though roots sang to by Fay could bore into the earth deep enough to find water, this was Ruboria. The vegetation here had a misplaced effect, but it did bring back their home a little bit. 

Right now, the queen was more than busy blocking the entrance with writhing vines and stalks, but fire and explosions broke through the living barrier again and again. 

Dwarven bombs were increasingly common among the traders venturing this far into the desert in search of the next city where they could offer their wares – slaves, spices, fabrics or other things. The elves had understood the explosives were used to scare away the giant sand worms lying in wait beneath the dunes, or even kill them. But in this case they were used to grant the traders access to their Sanctuary – the Ruborians had originally wanted in to rest, but as they'd seen the cave was inhabited, their meaning had changed to less pleasant intentions. Elves were worth quite a bit of money, in both the civilized world, and the uncivilized. 

This had happened before. The routes through the desert shifted and changed almost constantly, but the part leading along the Sanctuary seemed to be a safe one, as every couple of weeks the same happened. Elves and unicorns, dryads and fairies, all were forced to gather around the entrance. The fight didn't take long, and as Estell arrived matters were being brought to an end already. The rock and the leaves of the climbing plants growing over it were stained with Ruborian blood, as was the horn of the unicorn shaking itself a little way further. 

An elven youth helped up a girl thrown over by one of the last surviving invaders before she'd been able to thrust her slender sword through his belly, and then took off his shirt to clean the unicorn's horn with it. He cast a glance of barely disguised contempt to Estell, who'd outstretched his hands to help the girl, but had been too late. "Good morning, _prince._" 

"Miruvor," the white-haired boy panted. "Arinya. …I'm too late." 

"What an observation." 

"I'm sorry," Estell answered, slightly irritated. "No one came to get me." 

Miruvor didn't answer, but stepped away from the unicorn and left the chaos of blood and dead Ruborians behind. Arinya cast one last glance at him, but then departed as well. Estell grimaced as he felt something stinging in his chest. 

Shadow floated past his face, invisible to the others. "Here comes mother…" 

Estell turned, and almost immediately was illuminated by a sky-blue glow. In the heart of it walked a slender, elegant elven woman, dressed in a richly embroidered gown. A couple of fairies followed her closely, almost spherical bodies on glistening wings. The queen looked around and mended the torn vegetation with slight movements of her hands, and light blue and purple blossoms reappeared on the rock walls almost immediately. The expression of grief didn't leave her face, however, seeing all the blood and bodies, both those of the Ruborians and a few elves. 

"Estell," she spoke with a melodious voice as she caught sight of him. "It wasn't my intention for you to be here." 

"I can fight, mother," he replied quietly. 

"I don't want you to be exposed to so much death and violence," Fay spoke. "I know, better than most, what it can do to you. I want to spare you." 

Estell frowned, and ignored Shadow's gestures for him to be silent. "This is going to keep happening. The trading route runs straight through the Sanctuary. They'll keep coming." 

"And that is why I plan on locating a new home for us," his mother answered in a soft voice. "The search begins tomorrow." 

"_What?!_" 

"You heard me, Estell. I don't want any more spilt blood, not even to stay safe." And with those words, queen Fay vanished in her blue light, and left her son amidst the bodies of the invaders, alone with his Shadow.

"Milady." 

High above the ground, close to the origin of the shafts of light from the ceiling, where the lights in the air almost packed together, a rock formation rose up. The top was crowned with peaks curving almost completely inwards, and a loose overgrowth of lianas and strangling vines almost closed the space inside. The shafts of light pierced the canopy, but another light shone from the inside. 

"Milady, he may not know who his father really is, but he's going to live up to it." 

Fay bowed her head, so her pale, radiant face was almost hidden. "I ask a little more faith in my son, lords of council. A little more faith in me." 

"You know he longs to fight. He thirsts after the blood of the Ruborians, and the dwarves." 

Blue eyes were raised to the one who'd spoken, a ginger elven noble, on his living seat grown from the surrounding vines, one of many in the hall. Fay smiled slightly. "In that aspect, my son is hardly the only one, lord Halátir."

After he'd helped the warriors drag the bodies of the Ruborians outside, into the crushing sunlight, and bury them in the golden sand, Estell had gone inside again and picked himself a breakfast from the many hanging plants and trees of varying sizes with which the Sanctuary was covered. He strolled through the Sanctuary, eating as he went, ever further upwards across the steep tree paths, gradually overlooking more and more of the misplaced jungle in the middle of the desert. Eventually he came so close to the rocky ceiling there was no one around anymore, and there he leant over the balustrade. Below him, fairies and gnomes chittered away – the recovered populations, descending from the ones they'd taken along with the ship. A few birds sang in the canopy below him; Ruborian opportunists, now feasting on the fruits and insects the Sanctuary sustained. 

He remembered Evernight. He'd felt more at home there, between the blue shadows, and the same went for Shadow… almost naturally. 

"You're thinking of Evernight again," Shadow remarked. 

Estell didn't answer, but stuck out his tongue. It glowed slightly because of the glowberries he'd just eaten, and Shadow chuckled. "That'd be a good weapon against the darkness, prince of the elves." 

"Well," Estell muttered. "We don't have much to fear from the darkness anymore… more from another side of light, isn't it? They say Goldo fought Overlord Alcazar together with my grandfather, but I can hardly imagine that." 

"That was an exception," a new voice spoke from behind him. 

Estell turned and looked up. Violet eyes looked back from higher up, on a tree branch. "For a descendant of Oberon the Vigilant, you're not very alert, Estell… or did you inherit more from Oberon the Sleeper?" 

"And greetings to you too, Talmar the Watchful, protector of the Sanctuary." Estell bowed gracefully, and laughed as his friend jumped out of the tree and smacked his shoulder.

Talmar was slightly older than him, and contrasted sharply with his purple eyes and black hair. He knew much of the history of their people, and was quick to lecture Estell further.

"As you know, Goldo wasn't yet a king back then, and it was unconventional for him to slip out to help Oberon and the rest of our people. He was only crowned later, as he came back with all of Alcazar's gold. Dwarves elect their kings based on their achievements; the title isn't inherited as with us. You would never make it to the throne in the Golden Mountain range," he grinned. 

"Then it's a good thing we aren't in the Golden Mountain range, and I will, in fact, be king of this cave in the desert one day." Estell produced a little smile, but didn't manage to hold on to it. Shadow came a little closer, as if to lay a hand on his shoulder, but backed away as Talmar did so in his stead. 

"Did you miss the fight of this morning?" the black-haired youth asked in a softer voice. 

"Again," Estell nodded. He turned to the balustrade again, and the canopy below, lit by the sharp shafts of Ruborian sunlight. "I'm tired of it, Talmar. We had Evernight. We had _Everlight_, before. We had a land to call our own, a country… and now look at us. A single cave system which won't even be ours anymore soon." 

Talmar frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"My mother plans on moving us," Estell sighed. "She doesn't want to kill any more slavers."

He looked to the side, and saw Talmar had suddenly clenched his jaws. Violet eyes bored into his blue ones. "Estell…" 

"I know," he started with a bit of awakening hope, and the beginning of recklessness. "That would be going too far, wouldn't it?"

The shafts of sunlight had shifted to red and fell into the Sanctuary at another angle as Shadow strained himself to keep flying after Estell, his pupil-less eyes widened in worry in his hazy, dark face. "This isn't a good idea, Estell! Please listen…" 

But Estell ignored him, as if, like the others, he couldn't see him at all. Talmar was following him by now, and Miruvor and Arinya, and some others, all at a quick pace. All of them were young, and some of them had dealt with the slavers that morning. They were talking in soft voices, but with pressing tones, and their expressions were tense. 

"We have to find their base," Miruvor spoke to Estell, in an urgent voice, and without a trace of the contempt he'd shown earlier that day. "We have to send them a message that's stronger than caravans that don't come back. We have to get blood on our hands, Estell." 

"Killing…" the white-haired boy muttered. "I thought we were just going to negotiate with them to move their route? With a bit of threatening?" But he felt the others' eyes on him, and it didn't even surprise him anymore that the elves, with their peaceful reputation, had acquired some sharper sides by now. He remembered the stories from his grandfather's time, king Oberon. In that war with the dwarves the elves hadn't held back either, had they? And as Overlord Sayron took over Everlight, they hadn't surrendered easily either… 

He looked to the side. Arinya looked at him expectantly. He nodded quickly. "If the need arises." 

A youth with brown hair falling down to his shoulders and leaf-green eyes quietly joined the small group. "The weapons are ready," he muttered to Estell. "Good job, Isil," he answered.

Talmar stepped towards them. "And the unicorns?" 

"At the entrance," the boy smiled. "Avestal is with them." 

"Then we're leaving tonight," Estell almost whispered, his eyes wide with excitement. They wouldn't need to move, he'd make sure of that. He'd show them he could fight, and lead. He'd show them he was a prince of the Sanctuary. And later, when the time was ripe for it, and with that same spirit, they'd get their old homeland back as well. 

His mother was nowhere to be seen. She was probably discussing the move with the high council – the perfect time to set their own plans into motion! It was almost as though something had set everything up this way especially for them. Estell silently thanked the Mother Goddess, but he didn't have the feeling this was her intention. He wasn't exactly certain of himself – Shadow was part of the cause of that – but he knew it had to be this way. They had to do something. They could no longer wait and refuse to fight. 

The group split up, and one by one, or in pairs, they made their way to the only exit of the Sanctuary that was in use at the moment. There were more passages to the desert, but those were all smaller and meant as emergency exits. The gate they were headed towards now was the same the traders had broken through earlier that day, but the elves could cope with the living vines closing it a little better. With a few words the large thorns pulled back, and then the plants themselves followed, like a green curtain. 

In Estell's case it was Talmar to speak the words, loaded with the innate magic of the elves. Estell did possess magic, everyone could feel that very clearly, but he'd never managed to use it actively. No one found it odd anymore. It ran in the family – queen Fay's brother hadn't had any magic at all. 

Once past the vines, the gathered group stood in the rocky vestibule of the Sanctuary, where the Ruborian sunset shone in on a sand-strewn stone floor. The almost complete silence was only broken by the scrape of hooves and quiet snorts – the unicorns were indeed ready, all white perfection and slender contours. Miruvor swung himself onto the back of his own mount effortlessly, and flung his cloak around himself. Now it was still warm outside, but once the night would fall they would need their warmer clothes. 

Estell had a little more trouble getting on his unicorn. The animals never seemed to like him, and this one was also snorting and shaking itself uneasily as he approached it. As he really wanted to pull himself up, the animal took a few steps back, so he had to shuffle along, and it was probably only because of Talmar's calming touches it didn't rear up or kick back. Estell gratefully climbed onto the smooth back. They were all riding without a saddle, as was custom between elves and unicorns – normally there was an immediate bond of trust, and saddles and reins weren't needed. That did apply to the others. Estell grimaced briefly, but then he had to grasp a hold already – as Miruvor, Arinya and Talmar spurred their mounts into motion the rest of the animals followed, and whereas the others' mounts made sure their rides were properly seated, his seemed to forget about that. 

They left the small cave, and the immeasurable Ruborian desert opened before them, an ocean of gleaming sand beneath a fiery sunset. 

Then Miruvor's mount shifted to gallop without any visible cue, and the animal almost flew across the red-golden sand. The sharp hooves kicked up small clouds, light-footed as the animals were, and the rest were quick to follow that example, like silver coins skimming water. Estell gripped on to the nacre mane and _kept_ holding on, as if his life depended on it.

**(SANCTUARY)**

"On my life, Milady, I don't know where he is!" 

Later, and the shafts of sunlight had faded in the Sanctuary. The lights in the air and the few fairies still flying were the only sources of light now… and queen Fay, whose sky-blue glow sharply lit the elves around her. Her eyes were narrowed, and for a moment her subjects were afraid – a sting of fear the likes of which they hadn't felt for her in twenty years, since she'd once again taken this normally benevolent shape – changed from something else, something wild and dark. 

"How can you not know where he is? He is my son! He's a prince of the Sanctuary! This place is swarming with fairies and gnomes! How can no one know where he is?!" 

"We're missing more young ones, your majesty. We think they…" 

"_Silence!_" 

Fay's voice cut through the lower elf's words, and he fell silent at once. At that, Fay herself seemed to shy back. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she spoke in a softer voice. 

"…We think they've left the Sanctuary, Milady." 

Fay briefly closed her eyes. _It had to happen one day,_ she told herself. _That blood… is stronger than anything else._ Her eyes snapped open, and she outstretched a finger to one of the surrounding elves. "You. Get the gate seeds." The brown-haired man quickly nodded, and ran off. The queen turned to a few others, whom she knew to be some of her best riders. "Search in all directions. When you find them, use the seeds and bring them back to me. Be swift." 

"Certainly, Milady."

**(DESERT)**

Estell felt less certain of himself by the minute. 

He started to realize he'd never really had any leadership over this group. Not only because of the fact almost all of them were older than him, but it also seemed they held their prince in even less regard than normal now they were leaving Fay's influence. 

He could barely make his unicorn do as he wanted, and he was now hobbling along at the back of the group. He couldn't even keep up with Talmar. His friend kept looking back every now and then, but he was just too slow. Even Isil, the youngest, could handle his mount better. 

Miruvor rode at the front now, and Estell had to admit he had more right to it. He rode his unicorn like a natural, leading the way through the gathering dusk, as the fiery sky slowly bled dry into a cool, deep blue. Every time Estell dared to look up, more dazzling stars twinkled above him, and the sight almost made him forget his saddle pain. 

Miruvor, Arinya and the others seemed elated, even despite the late hour, and they were talking amongst themselves in hushed, excited voices. Estell realized they'd wanted to leave Fay's Sanctuary for some time. All they'd needed was an excuse, and he'd provided it. Talmar was the only one with the same goal he had. 

A nervous sting pierced his stomach. Shadow clearly felt the same. "Will we keep going in the right direction? How do we know we are? If the others leave us, what do we do?" 

Estell was forced to remain silent, but one thought overruled everything his mirror image brought up. _How can I ever be their king?_

Eventually it became almost a given thing to rush along like this, through the clear night, over the silvery hills, almost flying. Nothing broke the smooth Ruborian Sea of Sand, except some rock formations in the distance. Every now and then Estell thought he felt a tremor, and Shadow confirmed it, but everyone knew the great sand worms didn't hunt at night. When the sand cooled they slowed down, and sank down in forced sleep. 

After another two hours the matter of course of the ride turned to a kind of hypnosis, and Estell didn't even feel his behind anymore. Later still sleep kept reinforcing its grip in waves, and at times he almost hung on to his unicorn lopsided. As he was about to just let go and fall off the others seemed to notice the same, as Miruvor turned for a tall rock formation in the west. 

"There must be a shelter there. We ride on tomorrow."

Miruvor was right, and that too was almost natural, even to Estell. The rock formation gradually sloped upwards from the sand, and then rose in vicious peaks, eroded by the murderous sand storms that regularly ravaged Ruboria. Amidst the peaks lay a deep cave, a dark, gaping hole in the night. The elves rode towards it, the unicorns' hooves clicking on the rock quietly, and dismounted just before the opening. Miruvor stepped inside, and after a brief hesitation the others followed. Everyone let their guard down at a few remarks of the slightly older youth, and soon he'd slid down against the wall, with Arinya and a few others next to him. He fished a small tinderbox from his pocket and tossed it over to Estell. "Go and make a fire, will you?" 

Estell barely caught the thing and nodded quickly. He knelt, and Isil joined him. The boy was a good plant singer, and his pure voice quickly eased life from the _athelin_ seeds he'd taken along from the Sanctuary. Soon a depression in the rock was covered in roots and stalks, folded into a small tent. At another few words the plant dried out, and Estell could light the fresh firewood. The cave lit up at once, and he saw Shadow backing away slightly from the corner of his eye. As soon as the plant caught fire, new seeds shot out in reaction to the heat, which Isil caught and stored in the pouch on his belt. 

Estell walked over to the wall where the main part of the group was sitting now, and outstretched his legs to the fire. After the cold of the Ruborian night the warmth was very welcome, even with his warm cloak. He felt embarrassed; he knew Miruvor had asked him to make fire just to humiliate him. Since Florian, elves looked down on the non-magical individuals even more. The fact Florian had been his uncle didn't help, of course. 

"Good leadership you gave us tonight, prince." 

Estell looked up. Miruvor was looking at him, a smile on his face, and with him the main part of the others, too. Arinya was still quietly talking to another girl to her right, but their giggling wasn't exactly encouraging either. 

"I'm not really good with unicorns," Estell spoke in apology. 

"We noticed. Shall I lead us into the desert, then?" Some elves laughed, but it wasn't a mocking laugh. Estell clenched his jaws. "Do you know where we're headed?" 

"As far from the Sanctuary as we can get." 

"Aren't we going to the cities where the traders come from?" 

"Do you really think we can stop them?" Miruvor laughed briefly. "That isn't the way, prince. We clearly hid from the world for too long if you actually think that can work. No, we need to become part of the world again. We need to go and _live_ in those cities." He looked around. "In the end their power will be ours, too. We'll be the beginning, guys. The elves that put their people back on the map." Agreeing murmur chimed in. Miruvor looked back to Estell. "But not thanks to you. You're only useful as your mother's envoy. Echoing her words is all you can do, anyway." 

Estell stared back with burning eyes, but he couldn't speak. He looked around, but no one said a word to defend him. He rose abruptly and strode away, deeper into the cave.

He'd been staring into the dark for a few minutes, his underarm against the cold wall, as he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He looked back, into familiar violet eyes. He fell back, his back to the wall. "Talmar, what do I do?" 

"I'm sorry for not saying anything. But he might be right." 

"I want to leave the Sanctuary too, but there is a reason we're in hiding. They'd enslave us immediately if we try what Miruvor proposes." 

"They say Ruborians, dwarves and Imperials live together in the cities already," the black-haired elf smiled. "Perhaps there's room for us, too." 

"We're the only people that don't keep slaves. That makes us the people who will _be_ the slaves." 

"You have a point with that." 

Then another voice joined them. "Estell…" 

The white-haired elf looked away from Talmar and to Shadow, who came floating in from deeper in the cave, invisible to his friend. He couldn't say anything, as Talmar would think him crazy. Shadow knew this. Estell had communicated with him in silence since his childhood. 

"Estell, there's something in this cave, and it's waking up. My eyes were as bad as yours in the depths, but it's big." 

Estell slowly looked back to Talmar. "…I don't really feel like sleeping here. I'm going to move my mat to the plateau outside." 

"I'll come with you," Talmar replied loyally.

As they walked back to the group, Estell racked his brains for a way to get the others with them, out of the cave. If Shadow was right – which he was most of the time – they were at risk when the cave's inhabitant really woke up. But how could he, of all people, convince them to come without telling them the cave was inhabited? 

_They'll find out for themselves,_ he suddenly decided. _If that thing's really that dangerous, they'll see soon enough. They'll never believe me now anyway._

"We'll sleep outside," Talmar announced. The group nodded and raised hands – towards Talmar only. Estell looked away. _Yes. They'll find out for themselves._

Outside the deep blue Ruborian night sky greeted them. Estell looked around, and saw another small plateau, separated from the main one by an arm of the Sea of Sand. As their feet sank away in that, Estell thought he felt a slight tremor beneath them, but he didn't worry about it further; as he laid out his sleeping mat on the rock everything was silent, and nothing disturbed the nightly calm as Talmar and him lay down. Shadow almost faded away in the dark side of a rock peak. 

Then, all of a sudden, there was the terrified whinny of unicorns. The two elves could just see white flashes shooting away from the cave where the others were, kicking up sand with swift hooves. 

Then the roar echoed through the night, savage and ear-splitting.

**So, what manner of creature has awoke from its slumber to find a group of elves and unicorns in its cave? Please review and stay tuned to find out.**


	3. Light at the End of the Tunnel

**I do not own this story, all credit to Sunjinjo. I hope you are enjoying this story as much as I am.**

**Light at the End of the Tunnel**

The roar in the desert cave was soon followed by terrified screams, in familiar elven voices.

The weak firelight from the cave was distorted, and strange shadows danced just outside in the starlight. On the plateau, a little further away, Estell and Talmar shot upright

immediately, but by the time they'd gotten to their feet and were about to run to the cave entrance a louder scream suddenly resounded, more clear, more gruesome, and definitely coming from Miruvor. There was no doubt of the intensity of his agony. 

Estell's eyes widened, and he froze in place.

At the source of the dancing light a young elf hung dangling from his leg in the maw of a terrifying, shaggy creature towering at least three feet over the others. His cry echoed off the stone walls, and ended in a shrieking crescendo as he fell. He hadn't freed himself. His leg now ended just below the knee, and blood spurted from the ragged stump. The crack of bone resounded around the cave as the monster hulked over him still, and more blood dripped down onto the rock floor. 

Now some elves ripped themselves from their horrified trances, and slender blades were unsheathed. One of them yanked up Miruvor and shoved him back, where Isil caught him.

Others pushed the youngest member of their group towards the entrance, and eventually he staggered out of the cave, the groaning, half-conscious elf leaning heavily on his shoulder. 

More screams came from behind, and Isil didn't look back.

As the two figures set course for the plateau across the sand, Estell and Talmar didn't even notice how a tremor coursed beneath their feet for the second time that night. They both ran forward, and caught the duo as they reached the plateau. Isil sank down trembling in Talmar's arms, and Miruvor fell over immediately in Estell's, to bleed all over the sand-strewn rock. Estell stared at the roughly amputated leg in horror. Talmar joined them, and grabbed his shoulder with a trembling hand. "We need to bind this. Come on." He took off his cloak. 

Estell looked between Miruvor and the cave, from which screaming and flickering light still emanated. Then, before his eyes, the fire went out and there was only screaming. Then more elves came running from the cave, but not as many as had left the Sanctuary. They were just about eight of them, and the white-haired prince caught a glimpse of the pure terror in Arinya's sea-green eyes. 

"Arinya!" he yelled. 

"Estell," she shouted back. "A beast… they're dead, they're all…" She fell silent, and slowed, almost tripping in the sand, almost falling to her knees. A third tremor shifted the undulating patterns in the sand, and this one was stronger than the last two combined. This one was impossible not to notice. 

The girl sank away into a suddenly formed hole up to her waist, sand streaming in around her. For a moment she stared at Estell in mortal fear, and then she screamed; a terrible, high-pitched shriek chasing shivers over Estell's back as he looked on powerlessly. 

Behind him Talmar looked up from his work on Miruvor's leg. Isil cowered down even lower. 

Teeth curved inwards from the edges of the hole, and buried themselves into Arinya's waist. Then the silvery sand rose up, in a column of armoured darkness. The rush of rising earth was drowned out by a wordless, mindless roar, even more gruesome than the sounds from the cave had been. 

With his eyes still locked with Arinya's, Estell stared up at his first Ruborian sand worm, silhouetted against the starry sky like an ancient, massive pillar. With icy clarity, it occurred to him the girl was probably dead already. 

Her upper body disappeared into the worm's gullet like a ragdoll. Blood flowed over the creature's bony plates in dark streams, and flew around as the colossus threw itself forward, to snap up another elf running across the sands mad with fear. 

At that, Estell regained enough presence of mind to turn around, grab Isil and jump behind a large, claw-like rock formation on the plateau. Talmar did the same with Miruvor. Together they listened as the worm descended upon the desert again and again, and elf after screaming elf disappeared into his throat. Estell prayed to the Mother Goddess that some of them would hide, but where could they go? The cave was inhabited by something else with slavering jaws, and the worm was between the elves and the plateau… 

It seemed as though sand worms could hunt at night after all, if someone woke them up. Too many people had been walking directly over it… 

_Arinya. Mother Goddess, Arinya._

He knew her eyes would probably haunt him for the remainder of his life. 

Miruvor shivered and moaned next to him, and icy sweat streamed down his face. He was deathly pale, and the shreds of Talmar's cloak bound around his leg were soaked already. Then his face suddenly relaxed, and he slowly fell over from his sitting position, to stay down on the rock. Estell spread out his own cloak over him with cramped hands. As he tucked in the edges around Miruvor's body, the sounds behind them died away, and with a last rumble the sand worm disappeared beneath the sand. 

For several minutes the three conscious elves sat behind the rock formations, silent as the grave. Tears streamed down Isil's cheeks, and Talmar kept holding him tightly, bewilderment and tears in his own violet eyes. Estell stared into the distance, into the desert just visible between the rocks, up at the twinkling starry sky. The stars clearly didn't care about what just happened. The stars didn't care about the fact they'd been mercilessly beaten to the ground after having ventured a few miles away from the Sanctuary. 

Eventually Talmar softly spoke to the boy in his arms. "What was that, in the cave?" 

"Big," Isil shivered. "Hairy. A maw two meters wide. I don't know." 

"It can't hurt us anymore," the black-haired elf muttered, his eyes on Estell and with insecurity clearly visible in his gaze. "We're safe here." 

"Safe," Isil echoed, but his voice broke in fear. "They're all dead, Talmar. Avestal. Arinya. Eruva. Lindal…" 

"Ssh," Talmar hushed him. "Calm now. We're going back to the Sanctuary as soon as we can." 

Estell stared at his friend, but Talmar already gave him a look that made clear he was lying about this. The white-haired elf looked away. Then he placed a gentle hand on Isil's shoulder. "Sleep now, Isil. Everything will be alright in the morning." 

The exhausted boy closed his eyes, shivered, and slid down almost immediately. Talmar carefully laid him down. Isil's breathing quickly became regular and calm, mercifully asleep.  
Estell opened his mouth, but Talmar gestured for him to be quiet. He stood up, and laid a hand on Estell's shoulder. Together they walked across the rock. 

"We can't go back," Estell brought up in a hushed voice. "We have no unicorns. We're not quick enough, Talmar." 

"I know," his friend answered. "But I had to calm him." He paused. "It seems we're forced to continue our search…" 

"We can't go anywhere," Estell sighed. 

"We can hope the unicorns come back, if they're still alive." 

"Optimist." 

Talmar gave a tired chuckle. "All we have now is hope." 

Again, Estell stared out over the silvery desert. "We're so far from home. When an elf dies, he should be buried in the forest, so he can be one with the trees." 

"Even if you die close to home that isn't guaranteed," Talmar spoke quietly from behind him. Estell turned. "…I'm sorry. I…" 

"It's alright. My father became one with the Reef. At least they can't say I too was killed by the Overlords, if I die here." 

"Kamáel will be sung of forever," Estell spoke. 

"I'm just glad to know the Overlady's dead," Talmar shrugged with a tense smile. "That, the dwarves did do right, at least. Though I'd have loved to kill her myself." He looked down at the rocks. "I was so happy, the day the priestesses pulled that information from the heads of the traders. So happy. If my mother had been alive to see it, she'd have died of shame." 

"It was your right to be happy, Talmar. Believe me, I was, and she didn't even affect my family that much." 

Talmar looked up and smiled faintly. "Now I feel guilty. You haven't yet felt my happiness. No one knows where the Emperor is. Who knows… he could still be alive and your father won't even be avenged yet." 

"He wasn't even king yet," Estell muttered. "He didn't want to overshadow my mother by taking the title. He died a soldier, in Orntal…" He fell silent, and looked up at the sky. "Well. This won't do us any good, forgetting our own coming deaths by talking of dead fathers." 

"We're not going to die," Talmar spoke, and grabbed Estell's shoulder a bit more roughly. "We survived the beast in the cave, and the sand worm, because you wanted to leave. You're a lucky charm, prince." 

Estell remained silent. He couldn't speak the words – that he'd known about the beast in the cave, and had refused to try to get the others out. _I'm not lucky. I only bring death and destruction._ But he nodded, and smiled weakly. "Let's hope so." 

"It seems as though this rock leads on a bit," Talmar spoke with a gesture to the west. Beyond the cave, the rocky stretch did continue, an elongated plateau amidst the sand. "Perhaps it leads somewhere. We can do little else. Let's get some sleep and be ready tomorrow." 

"I'll stay here for a little longer," Estell muttered. Talmar gently squeezed his shoulder, and then walked back to Isil. "See you tomorrow." 

"Sleep well, Talmar."

Estell kept staring out across the silver desert beneath the twinkling stars, as a storm of confusion raged inside of him. He didn't know what he felt. As Talmar disappeared behind the rocky claws and probably fell asleep quickly, Shadow appeared next to him, darker than the darkest night. Estell thoughtlessly outstretched his hand, and Shadow reached through the tangible fingers with his own hand; Estell felt a strange cold, incomparable to the Ruborian night chill. He'd never felt such cold anywhere else, and still the feeling was welcome even here. Shadow's touch had always calmed him. Now, however, it worked only partly. 

Elven blood had flowed across the sand, in quantities he'd scarcely imagined before. Elves had been plucked from his side like insects. He was afraid, but not afraid enough. He knew this very well. He didn't feel half as much as he should have. 

He'd thought he'd been in love with Arinya for years. Why did he feel so little now she was dead? Now he'd seen her die before his eyes, screaming, bitten in half by Ruboria's largest predator? _Why didn't he feel anything?_

"Easy now," Shadow spoke, feeling how something that was almost rage washed over Estell. "You won't do yourself any good with that." 

"Why didn't you feel the sand worm?" Estell asked in an almost venomous voice, but still angrier with himself and his lack of feeling than with Shadow. "Why did you feel the beast in the cave, but not the beast under the sand?" 

"I don't know. I'm sorry." 

All was silent for a moment. Estell didn't even have to speak his mind. 

"Right, that was a lie," Shadow sighed eventually. "Estell, I don't know… there's something else gnawing at the edges of my mind, ever since we left. Something growing stronger all the time, and pushing everything else to the background. I only felt that beast because it was so close. The worm was very deep down." 

"Something else?" Estell asked flatly, but still with a bit of interest. 

"Something… dark." 

"Like you." The elf wasn't serious – he knew nothing else like Shadow – but to his surprise, his mirror image nodded.

"Yes. Like me…" 

The duo fell silent, and both stared up at the stars in confusion.

Wild water. 

Suffocating crests of foam pushed him down, salt stung his eyes like daggers and made him gag, deafening cannon fire numbed him so he lost all notion of up and down. 

An old nightmare, unchanged by the events of the previous day. Everything was the same as always, every wave, every chunk of debris from the smashed elven ships, every muffled scream from the surface… 

…until everything went dark. 

The water's power hadn't changed. It was still icy cold and savage, and he couldn't lift a finger against it. But as a wave gushed into his mouth, it wasn't salt anymore. 

Gasping for breath, he tried to keep his head above the foaming surface, but his wide-open eyes couldn't make out a single ray of light. He outstretched his hands, and his fingers slid over smooth, eroded rock – and then caught on sharp protrusions again and again. 

Then suddenly a bright orange light bloomed before his eyes, and the water spat him out, so he started falling head over heels, deeper and deeper amidst the icy, billowing water. 

The water turned red, and flowed together to form huge, swollen drops. He suddenly flew back, and as he stared up he could see where the drops came from. The dark blood dripped down from motionless, clawed fingers. 

Startled and confused he stared down, to the source of the orange light. Something dark came up to meet him, looming up from the glow. Then, so suddenly his heart skipped a beat, narrow yellow eyes sprung open in the blackness. 

"_Hello, Estell._"

Heat. 

Trembling forms, close by or far away, the difference wasn't even noticeable. Brown and yellow were the only colours in the wide surroundings; rock and sand. Above their heads the white-hot sky stretched out, the sun a hellfire behind them, a burning eye. 

They'd woken up early that morning as the sun rose, and they'd felt the heat almost immediately. From that moment on the sun hadn't granted them any mercy. All three of the conscious elves could feel their skin scorch, mainly Talmar, as he'd sacrificed his cloak to bind Miruvor's leg. The others could protect their heads and arms a little bit, though their sensitive ear tips were exposed. 

Before they'd left, Isil had done his best to sing an improvised stretcher for Miruvor. Estell and Talmar now pulled it across the rock; it was easier than carrying the crippled elf himself.  
They had no idea of their walking speed, or the distance they'd made from the cave. All that didn't matter either. To keep moving was all that counted now. Somewhere in the scorching distance there was hope, because that was the only heading they had. There had to be hope. Somewhere in the distance there was civilization, water, shade. 

Miruvor still wasn't completely awake. He kept moaning and rolling with his head, but none of them could feel his temperature, as everything was burning hot already. 

The sun was about straight above them as Estell started wishing he'd enter the same state of hypnosis that'd swallowed him during his nightly unicorn ride; that he could focus on the rhythm of one foot before the other, the walk, the dragging of the stretcher. But what he focused on instead was his tongue, dead in his mouth like a piece of leather, and his throat, dry as the desert around him. His stomach was empty, but he didn't have the wish to fill it with food. Water was the only thing that counted now. He'd sell himself to the slavers in return for a sack of water. 

It was so quiet – Talmar and Isil's rasping breaths the only thing breaking the smothering silence – and still the surroundings seemed to buzz, vibrate frantically, as if even the air tried desperately to escape the heat. 

Water… 

Now he knew why they called Ruboria the Sixth Hell. 

"…water?..." 

There was something breaking the buzzing silence. 

With the feeling of halting a huge boulder, Estell slowly came to a standstill. Talmar kept walking a little further, but then he stopped as well, Miruvor's stretcher askew between them. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't manage to find his voice at first. He coughed. "What is it?" he rasped. 

"Voices," Estell answered, his voice in a similar state. "People." 

Talmar raised his head and gently lowered the stretcher. He took a few steps forward, to the vicious rock claws flanking their path. The rocky plateau amidst the sand was much broader than at the spot where they'd left, and great portions of it were hidden by the rock formations. 

But there, beyond a whole row of claws, something interrupting the yellow and brown of the desert trembled in the air. Blue was floating there, quivering all the while, and red, and multiple grey forms. 

"What is that?" Talmar wondered out loud, a thoughtless hand on his forehead, more to wipe away his sweat than to see better. He exchanged glances with Estell, and then they both looked back to the new apparition. Estell cleared his throat. "Shall we take a closer look?" 

Talmar nodded. "But not too close. Everything here is dangerous." 

Estell glanced back. "Isil and Miruvor?" 

The black-haired elf looked up. "There seems to be a bit of shadow here. Let's lay Miruvor down here and take Isil with us." 

A little later, the three healthy elves crouched behind a rocky spike a bit further away, and stared at the new forms across the plateau. Their eyes were as parched as their mouths, but they could clearly see what had halted on the plateau from here. 

Quite a few wooden vehicles, in a long row on the rocks, surrounded by a small group of people in brightly coloured clothes. Estell narrowed his eyes. Yes, they were human Ruborians, dark-skinned, dark-eyed and dark-haired, a few locks peeking out from beneath protective headdresses. 

The grey forms they'd seen earlier turned out to be animals, spanned before the vehicles. They resembled unicorns, but they were silvery instead of white, with fiery eyes, and instead of an unicorn's elegant spiralling horn, these animals bore something that looked very much like a scythe's blade. 

But Estell was startled most by what he saw as he tore his gaze from the animals and cast his eyes upon the sand sleds they pulled. He grabbed Talmar's shoulder. 

The frontmost one was full of elves. Skinny, tanned, and with their hands bound behind their backs – that for which they'd come to the desert. As his eyes wandered he saw more elves in one of the other sleds, and humans in the rest, both Ruborians and northerners. In the last one were no slaves, but something large, covered with a dark cloth. Next to it, and behind it, were strange, small creatures with large eyes and a bright blue skin, their hands bound as well. Estell frowned at that sight, but the elves quickly captured his attention again. 

He tightened his grip on Talmar's shoulder and looked his friend in the eye. "We have to do something." 

Violet eyes met his. "What do you propose?" 

"We hijack the sleds with elves. The Sea of Sand begins there." Estell nodded to what he meant. The sleds had only just been dragged onto the rock; the slavers probably wanted to rest for a bit. Water bags were exchanged now, and the animals were given food and water.

Estell didn't spend too long watching that. He did notice the wares weren't getting anything. "…We can escape. Those beasts are fast, perhaps faster than our unicorns. Those sleds are built for the Sea of Sand." 

"And the slavers will leave us be?" 

"We're dead if we stay here, we're dead if it doesn't work. But that will be a faster way of dying." Estell exchanged a brief glance with Talmar before casting down his gaze again. 

"The only way ahead." Talmar nodded slowly. "I have to confess I don't see another way out either. I'm just sorry for Isil." 

"He's young… but some of them are too." Estell looked back to the slaves. His eyes fell on a young woman with long, almost blindingly blonde hair, almost as dazzling as his. She was actively looking around, and he cowered down as her eyes almost fell on him. He pulled Talmar down with him, behind the rock. "Before they're gone, Talmar." 

"I'll set the beasts in motion. You and Isil drag Miruvor into the sled." 

"Let's trust the Mother Goddess on this one."

Haroun abd-Nurri affectionately stroked his frontmost unicorn's muscular, silvery neck. The animal greedily drank from its water supply, and the drops that fell immediately evaporated on the bone-dry rock. The animal's skin was at least as hot. The silvery coat reflected a major part of the sunlight and the heat that came with it. 

The contents of his sled weren't so lucky. The slaves weren't covered half as well as the unicorns or their masters, and some of them lay back barely conscious. The slavers were careful for them not to die, however. Mainly elves were worth quite a bit of money. As soon as they'd recovered they were strong, and agile. And their women were very much appreciated by the nobles of the larger cities. 

Not even the elves were as important as the sled that'd travelled at the heart of the caravan for most of the journey, however, well protected against the sand worms and the other threats of Ruboria. It was the sled that bore the large covered object, and the blue creatures. The rest of the wares was a side issue compared with them. Haroun didn't quite know what the creatures were, but he had heard what they could do. He'd heard the stories, each more outlandish than the last, and he wasn't sure what to believe anymore.  
He could, however, believe in the gold that was promised for their safe delivery. 

He walked back to his own sled, past the other unicorns, and looked at the contents a bit more carefully. No deaths yet. The fiery thing with the silvery blonde hair was still looking at him tensely, but her hands were bound a bit more tightly than earlier that day. He grasped her chin and lifted her face slightly, grinning as he inspected her. She'd definitely make him a bit of money as he brought her to her new master. 

Then her eyes suddenly focused on something else than his face, and widened. 

A moment later, Haroun felt a strange pressure in his chest. He looked down, without feeling a thing, and saw a bright red blade protruding from the fabric of his clothes. It was retracted, and he fell over, just like that. As his sight faded he vaguely saw something jumping over him, and the screaming started.

Estell spun away from the dead Ruborian, and hurried back a bit to help Isil with Miruvor. The adrenalin had almost swept away his earlier lethargy, and though he knew he was almost out of energy, he felt more alive than ever before in the Sanctuary. He knew he should think about the blood on his blade – it scared him, and it'd felt very wrong to thrust it through the Ruborian – but other matters now shouted for his attention. 

Talmar defended him as he toppled Miruvor into the sled. Afterwards, he ran to the second sled of elves, skewered another slaver, and mounted one of the strange silvery animals pulling the vehicle. After a moment of furious attempts to spur it on, the animals set themselves in motion, just not in the direction the elves had had in mind. They weren't going for the Sea of Sand, but further along the plateau. Talmar had managed to get them moving, but they paid no attention to him regarding direction. 

For a moment Estell looked around in panic, but then shoved Isil down the way Miruvor had gone and then climbed onto a Ruborian unicorn via the sled. And felt something unexpected surge through him. 

The animal looked at him briefly, snorted, and burst into a run in seconds, and then a gallop, together with the others pulling the sled. They rushed after the other sled, with such speed they quickly started catching up on it. Estell held his breath – he had a feeling of control he had never experienced before in his life, and it seemed to lift him to new heights. The elves in the sled called out to him with hoarse voices. "Well done, boy!" "Have you done this before?" 

The slavers had put themselves into motion as well by now, using their own sleds, but they were far behind. As Talmar and him had attacked, the main part of the men had gathered around the sled containing the large covered object and the blue creatures, as if the rest of the slaves mattered little, as if they'd expected the elves to attack that one sled. Only now all of them had reached their own sleds again, and the pursuit was on. 

Estell moved with the creature he was riding like mad. The burning hot coat almost scorched through his trousers, into his legs, but that only gave him a sensation of connectedness to the animal – merging. The scythe blade on the elegant forehead moved up and down with the wild rhythm of the ride. 

Ruborian shouting resounded behind him, short, rough syllables. He cast a hunted glance back, and saw some riders had cut their unicorns loose from the sleds, egging on the animals into even higher speeds with their hands and whips. Separate mounts were faster than the animals pulling the sleds… or they should have been. He'd swear that he, while gradually overtaking Talmar, surpassed even the loosened unicorns in speed. He shot across the plateau. He _flew_. 

The elves in his sled had fallen silent, and now clung on crampedly as the sled rattled over the rocks, but he didn't even realize. Talmar bellowed something behind him, but he didn't hear. He felt incredible, busy doing what they'd left the Sanctuary for, busy doing something that went the way it should, more than the way it should. The excitement of the Ruborian unicorns overtook him, and made him lose his own thoughts, all the insecurity, all the rejection. He was the master now. 

Then Talmar roared his name so loudly it cut through even this haze of triumph. "_ESTELL!_" 

He looked back immediately, alarmed by his friend's tone of voice. 

Talmar's sled was still rushing after his, but the individual slaver's unicorns had fallen behind. They'd slowed down. 

"We have to stop!" Talmar yelled. "The plateau…" 

Estell looked forward again, and got the fright of his life. Not too far from him, the plateau suddenly fell away into nothingness, so he could only see the golden Sea of Sand in the faraway depths. But no matter how much he pulled on the reins, his unicorn just threw back its head, snorting and foaming at the mouth, too far gone to be able to stop anymore. The same went for the rest of the group, and Talmar's. 

The edge rushed up to meet them, fast, so mindbogglingly fast. 

"_Shadow!_" he shrieked, forgetting everything for an instant, almost mortified with fear. A dark shade shot past him. 

"Don't look at me," the voice that resembled his own so closely resounded in panic. "Estell, you fool, you –" 

The plateau came to an end. Estell's silvery mount's hooves milled into thin air for a moment, and then the weight of the sled was rammed against them and forced all unicorns over the edge. Behind him, the elves in the sled screamed, and Estell recognized Isil's voice.

The white-haired elf shut his eyes tightly. 

Another Sanctuary-dweller, dead because of him. 

Still further away behind him he could hear Talmar screaming… 

…a sound that didn't distance itself as fast as expected when falling freely. 

Come to think of it, the sled appeared to be sliding forward again. 

Then his eardrums were shredded by an inhuman roar, exploding towards him from the world ahead, and his eyes snapped open. Another roar followed, and another. 

The sled was screaming down a steep sand slope resting against the plateau, no longer pulled by the unicorns but by undiluted gravity, and everywhere around him sand worms exploded into the dizzying heights. The elves in the sled had another reason to scream and clench the sides of the vehicle, but above everything else Estell could hear a woman's voice, strangely calm… 

"Take these," the voice sounded pressingly. "They'll come in handy!" 

Estell looked back, as his hair was blown back with him by a rising sand worm almost straight ahead. Sand beat against his neck. 

He could just see how one of the chained elves, the young woman with the pale blonde hair, turned and pressed something into Isil's hands with her own bound ones. "You can throw them," she bit at him. "My hands won't get far enough!" She jingled her chains. "_Now, boy!_" 

Isil caught Estell's gaze, eyes wide with fear. Estell nodded at him, unable to speak. He looked ahead again. The sand worm loomed up before them, arching down, not far enough to race around before it could orient itself… 

Isil lobbed one of the objects up, straight into the gaping maw, exactly like the maw Arinya had disappeared into that night. 

The sand worm shuddered, convulsed, and continued convulsing as the dwarven bomb cut through its body, exploding all the way. The mighty armoured pillar slowly toppled over, in a whirlwind of sand obscuring the horizon… 

…and Estell gathered just enough presence of mind to whack his unicorn's flank, the elves in the sled yanked at the sides and used their weight, and together they shifted their course enough to speed around the dying sand worm after all. 

Behind him Talmar furiously roared his name a second time, this time followed by every curse and swear word he could think of. But Estell just narrowed his blue eyes, used the hot wind to keep his hair out of his face, and slowly took back control over the unicorns. As the animals regained their grip on the slope's loose sand and started speeding up, and actually started pulling the sled again, with even more insane speed than gravity alone could have caused, he started moving with his mount again, as well as he could. 

He didn't even have to think, unlike during his clumsy antics with the white elven unicorns. For the best, too, as they not only raced down with dazzling speed, the sand worms were still around as well, and it was his job to steer as much as he could. 

The Sea of Sand lay stretched out ahead, in the depths, an undulating carpet of pure gold beneath an unworldly blue sky. 

He feverishly looked back again. Talmar's sled was still following closely. It seemed his friend didn't control the animals half as well as him, but they were simply following Estell's sled. All the unicorns' mouths were covered in yellow foam now, but the exhaustion and the sand worms only seemed to whip them into a frenzy, wilder, faster. Estell's eyes widened in admiration – the Sanctuary's unicorns would have given out long ago. After having survived a few emerging sand worms they seemed to have composed themselves, as the sled now changed directions before the monsters even burrowed through the sand. 

After a while the slope started flattening. Most of the sand worms that had emerged reared up far behind them, and the few that had burrowed out closer to them weren't fast enough in snapping down – the two sleds were far away when that happened. 

They shot off the sand mountain, the plateau far and high above them, the slavers way out of sight. 

Two sleds of elves were their prize. All at once, they were no longer lost, they had a means of transportation and company, not to forget water, glorious water. Estell grasped the sack offered to him greedily. Drops spattered over his chest as the ride continued at high speed – the unicorns were unstoppable, and that was a good thing, as the sun was barely over its zenith and the sand worms were still active. But neither that nor the waste of precious water could faze him now. This felt like a victory drink, the first deserved one the elves had had in years. 

"That went well," a voice behind him chuckled. Estell looked back, beyond the radiant faces of the former elven slaves and Isil, into the bright green eyes of the young woman who'd passed the bombs along. "Who are we to thank for this daring rescue?" 

"I'm Estell," he uttered, grinning broadly. 

"Son of Fay, prince of the Sanctuary," Isil added. The boy exchanged glances with Estell, and smiled faintly. 

"Well, well," it sounded, and Estell felt himself blush. Then: "Are you freeing us from our chains as well, prince?" 

For a moment, Estell was tongue-tied. Then he caught another familiar voice, and he looked back, to see Talmar gallop along next to him with his own sled. The black-haired elf raised one arm up high, a wild grin on his face, and in his hand countless glistening keys on a steel ring caught the blinding sunlight, like a shimmering prize.

That sunlight diminished to a fiery sunset and the unicorns slowed as night slowly fell. The air trembled less and less, until the heat didn't press on the travellers so much anymore, and a strange calm fell over them and the desert. 

Now the air no longer trembled, they could see farther as well, and it wasn't long before the elves spotted the dark patch on the horizon. 

"An oasis," one of the former slaves spoke confidently. "I've seen it before. We can spend the night there." 

"Perfect," Estell muttered. He could handle the new mounts much better, but he was still sore with the day's ride. He slightly shifted the sled's course, straight for the dark patch. 

Half an hour later they arrived; an irregularly formed little lake, strangely misplaced in the middle of the desert, but Estell knew somewhere deep below their feet there had to be a source feeding the water, faster than it could evaporate. It was surrounded by low bushes, long grass, and slender palm trees with rustling, feather-like leaves in the cooling air. The setting sun reflected in the calm water. 

The sleds slid from sand to grass, an unexpectedly sudden change, clearly audible as the boards hissed over the blades of grass and came to a halt there. The former slaves, freed of their chains by now, immediately jumped out of the sled and ran to the water, laughing and displaying far more energy than Estell had left. Small blue water beetles fled into the grass on all sides of the lake. 

Estell dismounted, slowly and painfully, and strolled across the grass to Talmar, loosening his unicorn. 

"Thank you," he spoke to his friend. "Without you we'd have been nowhere." 

Talmar laughed. "I should be saying that to you. Estell, I thought you had no idea how to ride. How and why did you hide that for all these years?" 

Estell shook his head. "I… these aren't elven unicorns. I could just… handle them." He rubbed his neck and shrugged. "I have no idea, Talmar." 

"Slumbering magic, and perhaps affinity for animals, just as long as they aren't elven…" Talmar raised his eyebrows. "Well, kingdoms have been founded with less." 

"Empires," Estell remarked. 

"Oh, come on," Talmar huffed. He glanced to the side, to the oasis. For a moment he just stared, then he whistled softly. Estell followed his gaze. 

About all former slaves were completely naked by now, laughing and playing in the water. Estell had never seen this much naked flesh in one spot. He felt his face heat up, and not with the remaining sunlight or his sunburns, even though his skin was so red his blushing didn't even make him change colour. 

A few girls saw him looking. "Jump in!" they called out. "You're as tired and dusty as we are!" 

"Are you elves or not? We're out in nature!" 

For a moment Estell stared at them wordlessly, then one of the girls leaped out of the water, came striding through the grass towards them with long, challenging strides, and dragged them along, paying no heed to her nakedness. She looked at Estell mockingly, green eyes from between wet strands of bright blond hair. "My name's Sora, prince. And I'm going to scrub that prudish Sanctuary life right off you." 

As he was shoved into the water, he was so baffled he only protested as she forced his head down and he sputtered and gasped for a breath of air, laughing.

Later, as Estell's hair had dried up and his flushed cheeks returned to normal, a soft, almost melodious rattle filled the evening air – the many small water beetles in and around the oasis had started stridulating. Then clear voices joined them. Then the sound of a flute. 

The light of a small fire lit the water, and before the white-haired prince knew it his companions had started dancing, only a few at first, but then more. Just like earlier that day he was soon dragged in, by a dark-haired girl who'd introduced herself as Rakka. She whirled around him, and he barely kept up with her; he was exhausted and on his last legs. The music did spur him on, however, and he understood very well the former slaves needed this; they were probably exhausted too, but they hadn't had a reason for celebration for too long. 

He caught glimpses of Isil and Talmar, laughing breathlessly in the light of the fire, and even of Miruvor, still unconscious on his stretcher near the sleds. Perhaps he'd woken up a few times, briefly, but his eyes were closed now. Estell _almost_ hoped he'd wake up eventually… 

"My turn, Rakka," a voice then resounded, and the skinny girl he'd been dancing with ran off laughing. Her place was taken by a familiar, beaming face. 

"Can you handle it, prince?" Sora inquired playfully. 

In reaction to those words a wave of overconfidence washed through Estell's body, and he grabbed her hands, to try and set the pace with his last bit of energy. He kept up for longer than he'd expected, and he caught himself enjoying it. Sora kept smiling, and her eyes never left his face, something making him more than a bit nervous, but the music continued and the rhythm melted everything else away. This resembled the music of the Sanctuary in nothing; it could not differ further from the calm, formal dances his mother took part in.

These firelit whirlings beneath palm leaves, which made his feet travel straight through the grass and into the shallow water from time to time, were new, new as the desert, as the silver unicorns, as all these elves, as the sparkling green of Sora's eyes. He dared looking at her directly, and a glow spread through his chest. Her hands closed around his more tightly, and she pressed herself closer to him with the next whirl. 

For a moment he thought of Arinya, and he lowered his gaze. _I'd have given anything to be dancing with her like this._ Then he looked back up at the girl he _was_ dancing with, and the thought faded. Arinya was gone, just like the Sanctuary. All that lay behind him now. He couldn't go back; he didn't want to go back. "Sora," he muttered. His voice barely overruled the music, but he could see she'd heard him. 

"Out of slavery, into the arms of the prince of the Old Forest," Sora spoke, half-jesting. She laughed, and her entire face lit up. 

_Arinya,_ Estell thought again. _I never said anything. Never did anything. Then it was too late._  
_…Never again._

An unsure smile appeared on his own face, and he came closer to his partner himself.  
Before he knew it, Sora had swiftly taken the last step. Suddenly a slender arm lay around his neck, and soft, scorching lips pressed against his. All at once everything around Estell faded, even Talmar's baffled laugh; everything but Sora's presence, and the never-ending rhythm of the firelit music.

Later that night, no elven silk could have been softer than the wild grass on the water's edge, and no company better than the ones Estell now lay in between – on his left lay his best friend, Talmar, more valuable and comforting than ever after today, and on his right was Sora, clean of sand and dust and more welcome than every one of the elves he'd left for the sand worms the night before. Shadow floated above him as he stared up at the moon, and his glowing blue eyes rippled as he smiled; a broad grin in a dark face. Estell grinned with him. "I've never been this happy." 

"Good to hear that," Sora muttered, her eyes closed but smiling as well. A bit further away the sound of more elven voices could be heard, elated and free. 

Then Estell remembered something, something that'd been pushed back by more recent events. He frowned. "I've killed a man today." 

"I killed more," Talmar replied drowsily. "And that wasn't your first." 

"It was for the Sanctuary, before. Now it was for me." 

"And us," Sora added. She rolled over to him and hesitantly laid a hand on his chest. "For me." 

"That reason is good enough, methinks," Shadow said, only audible to the one he was floating over. Estell stared up at him, then looked to the side, at Sora. Killing didn't feel good at all, but he very much preferred this over the alternative… 

"That reason is good enough," he smiled. Sora snuggled in closer, and Estell's heart missed a beat. 

"You're a lucky charm, prince," Talmar chuckled. 

"You're lucky," Shadow echoed, inaudible to the rest. "You. All by yourself." 

And Estell felt as if even the moon answered his grin.

The next day, heat beat down on them again. The desert outstretched before them again, an unchanging golden sea, but this time they moved much faster, they had water, and not to forget company. 

Estell and Talmar once more rode the frontmost unicorns of the two sleds, and led the animals northwest. They'd discussed their plans that morning, and had come to the decision of not going back to the Sanctuary – Talmar had considered their finding of the sleds an omen of sorts, and Estell hadn't disputed that. Their task wasn't over. And they all knew they wouldn't leave the Sanctuary again if they went back now. 

Aside from that, Shadow had told him they were still headed for the darkness he'd felt, and Estell was interested in this – he didn't know what darkness there was still left in the world, but he'd try and exterminate it with pleasure. All darkness save for his Shadow. 

As the sun rose up high, Estell recalled something else, something he'd almost forgotten in the confusion of the past days, despite it being the reason for their journey. He glanced at Talmar. Then: "Talmar. They're moving the Sanctuary without us." 

"We're good and lost now," his friend nodded. He looked up at the scorching sky, his eyes narrowed beneath his hood, but grinning. 

"Is that a good thing?" Estell inquired, an uneasy smile on his own face. 

"Everybody knows that you have to be lost –" 

Suddenly the world was dislocated. 

Up suddenly lay to the left, the horizon spun around them and turned into a streak of blinding blue above them, dust and rock chippings descended on him, the unicorns whinnied shrilly, wildly, and startled cries came from the sleds, for the second time in as many days. Suddenly his entire body was one big bruise. 

As everything came to a rest and Estell had scrambled back to his feet, and he saw the others do the same, Talmar came walking through the dust, towards him. His face was now disfigured by deep cuts and he was covered in grime, but he was truly laughing now, and he spread his arms. "…You have to be lost to find things that can't be found, my friend!"

The sleds had been constructed with hard wood from Ruboria's coastal regions, so they were still in one piece. The side of one of them was cracked, but it could still be used. The unicorns had also survived the fall without major injuries – three of them had broken a leg, and they had to be relieved of their suffering, but the rest had landed into the gorge a bit more gradually – the walls weren't vertical, but sloped a bit down at the bottom. 

Yes, they'd ended up in a gorge, a gaping scar in the desert soil, deep enough to create shade – blessed shade. The gorge's walls were layered, and the bottom also betrayed the fact water had once flowed here, long ago, or even recently, that was hard to tell. In the desert, ancient history and yesterday mixed together easily. Estell also felt as if he'd left the Sanctuary centuries ago. 

They had to go on. As soon as everyone was back on their feet, Isil had tried to grow vines to the edges of the gorge, but the seeds he had with him would not spring into life. 

"A sign," Miril, one of the former slaves, had muttered. 

"Of whom? The Mother Goddess?" Talmar had asked him. "She generally works with plants that do grow." 

"I don't know," the skinny man had answered. "But it does mean something." 

They had no choice. They'd gone on, with a bit more trouble than on the smooth sands above, but the sleds were useful here, too. The gorge snaked through the desert, sometimes at sharp angles, sometimes gently undulating like the river that'd possibly flowed through it one day. Here and there skeletal, bone-dry trees sprouted from the walls. Here and there, enormous insects and spiders shot away in holes in the cracking rock. 

And then they found another sign. 

A harsh contrast of white and brown streaks, the yellow of dried tendons, and the dark green and blue of the tattered remains of clothing. Smooth bone; the rough, last rags of flesh, left by the vultures. The skull's jaws were open wide, in a soundless scream, but the broken neck betrayed this was not the work of birds – though the Ruborian vultures were notorious for their size and bloodthirst. Estell was glad he hadn't lured them down yet. 

But that relief paled in light of the fact he recognized the corpse's clothes, even before he knelt down at the body. Elven work. 

So far from the Sanctuary. This had to have been a unicorn rider. Had he fallen into the gorge? Where was his mount? 

"Attacked," Talmar spoke sadly. "They took the unicorn and threw him into the gorge, or they cut his throat and then threw him in." 

Estell grimaced. "We've been lucky, haven't we?" 

Sora had stepped out of the sled by now, and walked up to him. "Perhaps you now realize just how lucky," she spoke in agreement. 

Isil slowly came closer. Estell realized the boy didn't need to see another body now, but he still slightly stepped aside. The young plant singer fell to his knees, and gently placed his hands on the body's chest. He closed his eyes. 

And opened them again. He grasped at the already-weathered fabric, clawing between the folds. Talmar frowned. "What are you doing, Isil? Let him rest." 

"I feel…" the boy began. "I feel something…" Then he pulled back his hands, a woven pouch between his fingers. 

"What's that?" 

Isil opened the small bag, and widened his eyes. "Talmar… Estell…" 

The duo cast a glance into the pouch, and held their breath. "Gate seeds." 

"We could go back to the Sanctuary with these! Even if they move it, there'll be a central flower gate!" 

Estell stared down at the dead elf. "My mother… sent him. To get us back. Me. Probably more… I wonder how many will come back alive…" 

"None of them will bring us back," Sora spoke softly. 

"We're not going back, are we?" Isil asked, without taking his eyes off the seeds. "Even with the sleds, it hadn't been possible – we're lost. But even now we have the seeds…" 

Estell expected Talmar to say something, but all remained silent. After a brief pause, he realized they were waiting for him. The decision fell to him. 

Shadow descended to him, his blue eyes wide in his hazy, dark face. "You're stronger here than you could ever have been there." 

"No," Estell finally spoke. "No, we're not going back. We're continuing forward. But Isil, keep those seeds with you. I don't want anyone else to find them, even though flower gates won't grow here. Who knows, they might come in handy someday." 

"Alright, Estell," the boy answered. 

And with that, the elves climbed back into their sleds and onto their unicorns, and the journey through the gorge continued, none of the travellers bothered by the fact the dead rider had had far more purpose to his voyage than each of them.

The sun rose and started setting again, and they were still in the gorge as night fell and they made camp. Just like the vines Isil had tried to grow, the _athelin_ seeds, too, refused to germinate here, so the travellers had to make do without fire, but just like the previous night at the oasis soft singing did echo between the rock walls. 

Estell wasn't participating. He'd walked away from the group, and was now staring straight up at the stars. Alone with his Shadow, as he liked it. Neither of them really had to speak, but eventually Shadow did so regardless. 

"We're really close now, you know." 

"The darkness?" 

"Yes. Every step we take leads us there. Almost as if we're meant to." 

"So be it." Estell smiled. After a brief silence he opened his mouth to speak again, but he fell silent as he caught a gentle humming behind him. As it came closer, it changed to bits and pieces of an elven song that'd been sung at the oasis as well. 

"_Erlen birlen kizlar bar, oyneng yar, oyneng yar…_" 

He turned with a smile. "It certainly is a beautiful night, my fair lady, but not as beautiful as you." 

"That silver tongue matches your silver hair," Sora replied from the shadows of the gorge.

Her eyes shimmered, green as emeralds. She stepped towards him and laid her arms around his neck. Estell dared placing his own around her waist and kissing her. "By the Mother Goddess, I don't know how I deserved you," he smiled. "One moment I'm reconciling with dying in the desert, the next I'm dancing with you." 

"I don't know how I deserved being rescued by our crown prince," Sora grinned. 

"I… don't have much to offer," Estell spoke, more seriously now. "I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't know where we are. The fact I'm Fay's successor isn't worth much here." 

Sora stroked over the back of his head. "Don't worry. We're alive. I feel like you can do more than you think, Estell. After all… even your name means 'hope'." 

"We'll see. So far, it's all been luck." 

"_Oyneng yar_," Sora spoke with a faint smile. "Every sunset is the beginning of a magnificent night. And even the changes we've been through can lead us to a better future." 

"Or one where I lead the remainder of my people to the slaugh-" Estell started, but his companion cut off his words with a sudden kiss, making him forget all doubts that still remained after her words. A few staggering paces back pressed his back to the gorge wall, and a little later Shadow flew up to the stars, almost giggling, in order to give his tangible counterpart some privacy.

As the sun came up the next day and the elves woke up, it was hot again already, but the sun wasn't beating down on them thanks to the gorge. That'd only happen in the afternoon, when the light came from right above them. 

The damaged sleds were still useful in this part of the gorge; the rock bottom was reasonably flat, and definitely eroded by water here. The gorge was deepest in the middle, where the water had rushed by fastest, and the bottom slightly curved up at the walls. The scarce boulders that'd crumbled from the walls weren't enough to hinder the sleds. 

As the day stretched on, something else did, however. 

It started with unexpected, welcome shade just after the sun had peeked over the edges of the gorge. Estell noticed immediately; a misplaced respite from the heat and the glaring light from which not even his hood could shield him completely. The bottom of the gorge was covered in strangely familiar flecks of shade, he noticed. He looked up, and saw that small trees were sprouting from the walls, larger than the skeletal stumps they'd seen before, and leafy. The leaves were waxy, or covered in small pale hairs, and he knew this was so that the plants could save water and were more resistant to the harsh sunlight – but water had to be near, their roots had to have found moisture somewhere. 

Then they started having trouble with the sleds. 

The bottom had been made up of rock so far, or clay that'd been so hard-baked it was indistinguishable from rock. But now the unicorns started leaving hoof tracks on the ground, and the sleds subtly sank away – and then less subtly. 

The clay was much less hard-baked here. It started resembling mud more and more. And eventually it was impossible to pull the sleds along anymore, and the elves were forced to abandon the vehicles. The unicorns were freed, and the most confident elves mounted the vacant animals to prevent them from bolting. The journey continued at a slower pace, across increasingly wet and unstable soil. Soon everyone's feet and legs were covered in drying clay. 

And then, inevitable, expected but still surprising, there was the water itself. At first in the form of small puddles in the deepest footprints, but then throughout the entire gorge; shallow, but glistening in the dappled light, and deepening with the hour. More vegetation appeared along the walls; succulents, mosses, low, spiny palm-like plants and even the occasional fern. The elves and unicorns waded through it, looking around in elation and washing the clay off their bodies. 

More shade fell over them as the gorge walls came closer together and even met one another occasionally. Slowly the rock above them changed to a ceiling, regularly broken by cracks and holes through which sharp shafts of sunlight fell in. Time and again their path was hidden by curtains of hanging vegetation. 

"It seems we got lucky yet again," Talmar noted to Estell. The duo had dismounted, and Estell led one of the silvery unicorns along by the brightly coloured Ruborian reins. Miruvor lay bound across the beast's muscular back. 

"Three times is a bit much," he replied. "We now know Ruboria's caves aren't safe, who knows what this water might attract." 

"…w…water…?" 

The voice was weak, pitiful, like that of a dying man. Still Estell's jaws tensed involuntarily as he heard it. Slowly he turned to his unicorn, and the limp, emaciated, one-legged figure on its back. 

A cramped, sunburned hand clawed around and rested on the stump of an upper leg. A sigh escaped from behind a curtain of sandy hair, as if it was finally accepted that the limb was really missing. 

Just as slowly as Estell had turned to him, Miruvor raised his head. 

"Estell," he rasped. The white-haired boy could not read his blank expression, but surprise resounded in his voice. 

"Yes, Miruvor, I'm alive," he spoke. "Something that can't be said of the rest of our Sanctuary companions." He stepped aside as Talmar, his hands folded into a bowl, poured water over Miruvor's tensed face. The crippled elf drank greedily. Then he seemed to realize what Estell had said. He looked up, his eyes wide, then narrowed in something resembling pain, then wide again. "…Arinya? Avestal?" His hand was still resting on his leg, and his face contorted in real pain, or the memory of it. 

"Everyone," Talmar nodded in passing. "Except Isil here." 

"Glad you're back, Miruvor," the boy said timidly. 

"Everyone." Miruvor looked around. "But who are…" 

A smile slid over Estell's face, and not without satisfaction he said: "What we left for. We came upon a caravan of slavers. Long story short, we're no longer a company of four. You slept through everything nicely." 

Miruvor kept staring at him, brown eyes crusted with sand and drought and fever dreams, but something did light up in the vacant depths. "You saved me." 

"Isil dragged you out of the cave, Talmar tended to your wounds, I tipped you into the slave sled." 

"Estell. Thank you. I've not always been…" The crippled elf's voice slowly died away as he looked around again, his neck stretching painfully from the striding unicorn's back. "…we're in a gorge… where are we?" 

"I don't know. At some kind of water. Isil tried to sing us out with vines, but his magic doesn't seem to work here." 

"Lost." 

Estell nodded, and exchanged glances with Talmar. "They've probably moved the Sanctuary by now." 

Miruvor's expression changed. His jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed, and he trembled, despite his weakened condition. "What have you done? We were on our way to the cities…" 

"We were lost as soon as we stepped into that cave, Miruvor." 

"We could have made it. We could have reached the cities. Kerma, Napata, Nurri. And why didn't you do anything to save them? Arinya…" 

"We were too far away," Talmar interrupted. "We were already outside, remember?" 

Miruvor's face tensed up even more, in an unexpected display of sharp suspicion. "Such a coincidence, Estell." 

Estell froze. Shadow, just behind his shoulder, widened his eyes. "No, no, no, don't say it…" 

"What are you saying, Miruvor?" the white-haired prince asked calmly. 

"Whatever that was in that cave, you knew it. You walked out with Talmar and left us behind. You never liked me… I just hadn't expected you'd abandon the others, too." Miruvor lifted his head and spat into the shallow water, his eyes full of hatred now. "You are not my prince, and if I had a choice in the matter I'd leave… you're starting to take after your _uncle_, you know that?" 

Estell felt himself pale with fury and indignation, beneath his feverish, sunburnt skin. He stared at the other elf for a moment, as the confusion of two nights ago rushed through his body again. He _had_ abandoned his companions, but he couldn't have fathomed it'd end in such a bloodbath… 

But he could not deny Miruvor was right. He felt eyes on him from all sides now, including those of Sora and Talmar, and he could not deny it. 

He abruptly turned away and strode ahead in a faster pace, and then he started running.

"Estell!" 

Talmar's, Sora's and Shadow's voices reached him almost simultaneously, but Shadow was the only one to keep up with him as he ran ahead, the only direction he could flee to, whacking aside hanging vines, and at times tripping and sliding on the layer of algae beneath the water's surface. Drops spattered up all around him and soaked his trousers and tunic. Sunlight and shade played over his face and body as he bolted on. 

"Estell, listen to me. They don't suspect you. And even if they knew… you didn't want them to die. It was… it was an unfortunate chain of…" 

"But he's right, isn't he?" he bit back, his breath ragged with running. "He's right. I did it. I didn't even look back. And I'm not even sorry." 

"Estell…" Shadow started, but then fell silent. Estell slowed, and stared up. 

The ceiling of the gorge – which resembled a tunnel more than anything here, as the openings through which sunlight streamed in were becoming increasingly scarce – suddenly soared upwards, and was then hidden from sight by a curtain of hanging vines. The young elf hesitantly outstretched a hand and pushed them aside. 

Beyond the green curtain the gorge suddenly widened. Behind the vines lay a lake, almost perfectly round, and almost perfectly still, like a silver mirror. Dim light, heavy with glistening particles of dust, fell down through layers and layers of leaves higher up in the cave. Rock formations surrounded the lake; irregular forms, silent sentinels. 

"Shade and fresh water," Estell muttered, vaguely recalling the Evernightian blessing. 

Shadow looked around. "I think the both of us haven't been this homesick before," he noted. "Ruboria does things to us." 

Estell nodded silently, but was startled as another voice broke the otherworldly calmth.  
"What do you know of homesickness… elven boy?" 

Creaky, bitter, almost venomous… Estell spun around, to see one of the rock formations moving. A short, hunched figure slowly approached him, and a small swaying light hanging just above it suddenly cast huge shadows against the rock walls. 

Narrow yellow eyes suddenly flared, and ragged ears spread out to either side. The creature grinned a terrible grin. "White-haired, blue-eyed, certainly a prince, the gods must hate us both!"

**If that is who I think that is then things are about to get very interesting in the next chapter, which means please review and stay tuned.**


	4. Truth in Bloom Part 1

**And so Estell has been found out by a very familiar character all fans of Overlord must know. All credit to Sunjinjo for her incredible story and I hope you enjoy.**

**Truth in Bloom Part 1**

Deep within the Ruborian desert, far from all rivers and the civilization the water brought with it, hidden from the outside world – but not quite good enough – was the stronghold of the elves of Everlight and the old forest of Evernight, one of the last hiding places of their people, and the queen's seat. A queen who was possibly the last member of her ancient bloodline, as her only son had been missing for three days, and if one was missing for that long in the Ruborian desert, his chances were slim. 

High up in the Sanctuary the chamber of the high council rose up, a layered, irregularly formed stone column reaching almost all the way up to the stalactite-covered ceiling of the cavern, more and more overgrown with deep-green vegetation and brightly coloured flowers towards the top. The lively outside of the natural construction contrasted shrilly with the subjects discussed inside. 

"Three days, Milady. Three days and not a single rider has returned." 

"We have to wait, milord." There was little emotion in the melodious voice, and there was nothing but calmth in the queen's blue eyes either. Still the members of the high council felt tension radiating off her, from her seat at the head of the long, elegant table in the heart of the living hall. 

"Milady, I beg of you. What we have to do is continue the move. What if they have been captured and the Sanctuary's location discovered?" 

Fay's sky-blue glow faltered, unexpectedly, and the council members were visibly startled. "If my son and his companions cause our location to be discovered, we will interrogate the ones that attack us, in our turn, for _theirs_. This is not the moment to flee, lords and ladies." 

"Milady, all preparations have been made. Our mages are cutting off the subterranean water flow. Our plant singers coax seeds from all plant species so we can found a new Sanctuary. It is hopeless. The riders would go on until they found the prince, or until they died. They could not be far; they only had one night's head start. Three days went by, Milady. This is not the moment to endanger our people further." The one who had spoken, a tall man with sharp features and long, nut-brown hair, leant back in his seat and put his fingertips together. "With all respect, but perhaps this was never his home to begin with." 

"If that is what you think…" Fay looked around the hall, and met the eyes of her council members. None of them answered, but it was clear to her. She rose, all light and elegance. Without paying heed to anyone she strode to one of the gaps in the complicated web of rock and wood that formed the walls, and looked out, at the Sanctuary unfolding in the depths. 

It was true; everyone was preparing for the move. Vegetation was broken down, possessions packed, gnome nests dug up and unicorns made ready to ride. The queen looked on, deep regret in her eyes. 

_Estell. It seems I lost you after all, like a thief in the night._

And in the dim, dancing light reflecting off an almost perfectly round subterranean lake, the prince of the Sanctuary stared into glowing yellow eyes, with an expression in them that seemed to nail him to the ground. He backed away as the creature came closer, suddenly afraid, inexplicably afraid, even as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom and it became apparent the creature could not be a threat to him. 

It was old, ancient. Its skin was wrinkled, its claws blunt, its movements rheumatic. Only the eyes were fierce and fiery like those of a much younger creature, and stared at him from under a rough grey hood, unfaltering. 

"Dark, yes," the creature muttered. "So this is what I felt. An elven boy with white hair. Well, it adds up nicely. I'm afraid you're what I'm to work with, my boy." 

"What are you _talking_ about?" Estell uttered, still backing away. Shadow kept floating just behind him. 

The creature opened its mouth to speak, but abruptly looked up as new voices reached them. The fierce eyes shot back to Estell. "Did you bring friends?" 

Estell barely had time to nod in bewilderment before a claw closed itself around his lower arm, tight as a vice. The ancient creature dragged him along, suddenly with far more strength that the withered, emaciated body betrayed. With his ears laid back flatly, he led the boy around the lake, towards an especially overgrown wall. The bony claws pulled the leaves aside and pushed Estell forward, into the dark. A moment later he stepped after the elf and his eyes, and the glowing stone hanging above his back, dangling from a weathered stick, lit up the tunnel they'd ended up in. 

Estell stared at him, and tried to yank free his wrist. He heard his companions arriving at the lake behind them and calling out his name, and he opened his mouth to answer – they might be looking for him in order to ask him unpleasant questions about how he'd left his previous group for the sand worms, but even that was better than being abducted by this creature. His abductor reacted swiftly, however, by clasping a claw over his mouth. The nails turned out to be quite sharp, still; they pulled scratches over his cheek. 

"Don't you dare," he hissed. "One elf is quite enough for this old body." He glanced up slyly. "Well, for a certain value of 'elf', of course." 

Estell exchanged glances with Shadow. "He doesn't seem to be dangerous, but he does speak in riddles," his dark counterpart remarked. 

"Well, allow me to explain – in a place where I'm not at risk of being gutted by one of your pretty elven letter openers," the creature answered, to the surprise and shock of both Estell and Shadow. Shadow stared down with wide eyes, and shot back as he realized the creature's yellow eyes were gazing straight at him. He blinked and looked again, but nothing changed. Calm and sly and glowing, the demonic gaze kept crossing his. 

"Can you _see_ me?" Shadow uttered. 

"But of course." 

"_What?!_" 

Estell looked at the creature, then Shadow, then the creature again, his eyes as wide as Shadow's. He felt his counterpart's panic and bewilderment – for his whole life, he'd never been seen by anyone, never heard. What he was experiencing now was like a record amount of agoraphobia. At the same time he felt relieved and happy for him, because he also knew how lonely Shadow felt at times. Finally someone saw him! 

But who? 

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling, as he was still dragged along through the tunnel. 

"My name is Gnarl, my good white-haired elven prince, Minion Master and loyal servant of Evil." 

Now Estell found the strength to free his arm. "Minions? _Evil?_" 

"Get used to it, kiddo." 

"Now hold up –" 

The creature stepped past him, outstretched an arm and wiped aside another curtain of leaves. Light flowed in, Estell shielded his eyes, and Shadow gasped. The white-haired elf followed that example as soon as his eyes had adapted to the light again. 

The gorge – or the tunnel system it'd become at this point – didn't stop at the small lake behind them. They'd ended up in a much larger layered air bubble in the rock, lit by rays of sunlight falling in through a long, thin crack in the ceiling, a remainder of the gorge itself. That light fell on stalactites along the ceiling, palm-like trees along the walls, lianas and moss, multiple streams of water trickling from cracks in the walls, a shallow layer of shimmering water covering the entire floor – and the tower. 

The construction rose through the cavern from floor to ceiling and was clearly ancient; the stone it's been built with was of the same colour as the gorge and crumbled in the same way. At the bottom it disappeared into the water and below that into the rock, without a visible entrance, as if this was only the upper part and the lower parts were hidden in the rock. 

The creature – Gnarl – stepped forward through the shallow water. Estell remained standing in the tunnel opening, staring up in bewilderment. "Where are we?" 

"So many questions," Gnarl chuckled. "And I have so many answers – but not to the questions you're asking now." He turned to Estell and Shadow, and let his eyes go over the two for a good long time. "Right," he spoke, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I'm going to have a hard time with you, but it's a start. Well, that's what you get when they're raised by their mother." 

Estell tensed with confused indignation. "You don't know anything about my mother, you…" 

"I know more than enough about your mother, boy, you keep that mouth shut. Your mother is Queen Fay, the Lady of the Light, ruler over Oberon's seat in the old forest of Evernight and Orntal on Everlight. I had heard she'd fled south, and I should have known I was sensing you down here, but… well, an old veteran in the dark business can hope he isn't getting stuck with elves, right?" 

Estell furiously tried to find words, but didn't succeed. Shadow nervously floated in front of him, and spoke with an unsteady voice. "If you think you can use him for your dark ends because of me…" 

Gnarl smiled slyly. "Dear boy, don't worry. It's not you. You're only part of his heritage, methinks." 

"Heritage? His heritage is the elven realm, the Sanctuary…" 

"You're inheriting that mess from Fay, yes. But from your _father's_ side…" The yellow eyes glimmered. "That's another story entirely." 

"My father was a soldier of Orntal," Estell spoke, his voice unsteady as well now. "My origins and heritage lie solely with light magic." 

Gnarl chuckled. "Is that what they told you? I think everyone that's consciously experienced your birth has kept their trap shut very nicely, my boy. What did they call you, by the way?" 

"Estell," he uttered. "This is Shadow. Would you stop insulting me and my family?" 

"Insulting? I'm doing anything but that… Estell. Your father was of far nobler origins than a simple elven soldier. And, in contrast to most of Orntal's soldiers, and without a doubt also the man they posed as your father, your real da's still alive." 

Despite everything, Estell was intrigued by this. "Well then, who is it, according to you?" 

The old Minion turned again and stepped through the water calmly, towards the crumbling tower. "About twenty-three years ago," he started, "there was a powerful Overlord… not Overlady Jinx, but her predecessor. He took one realm after the other for himself – Nordberg, parts of Everlight, the Glorious Empire. One of his last conquests was the elven capital of Everlight, Orntal. He took a souvenir – the queen, darkened with his magic." He glanced back. Estell was silent. "A few months after that his magic ran out, or something else was at play, I don't know for certain. But the queen regained her light and fled back to her people. The thing was, she was pregnant by then. And here you are, twenty-three years of age, with queen Fay's blue eyes and Overlord Sayron's silvery white hair… it adds up, my boy. Your Shadow confirms it." 

"No," Estell whispered hoarsely. "No, that's not true. What do you know? That can't be…" 

"I was his advisor for all that time, boy, and after that, Overlady Jinx'. I was there, during every conquest. Queen Fay was with him, on his arm, by his side on the battlefield, I've seen her darkening and regaining her light. And though I haven't seen Sayron – Emperor Sayron – for years on end the colour of his hair is still fresh in my mind, and it was exactly as long and silvery as yours. And seeing how Lady Jinx… fell… two years ago, I've been searching for her successor ever since. I followed my gut – it's never abandoned me, and I don't doubt the fact it was you I felt. You and your Shadow." 

"And I do not doubt I felt _you_," Shadow muttered. Estell looked up at him abruptly. 

"We followed the darkness to destroy it," he uttered. 

"He can see me, Estell. For the first time in my life someone can see me." Shadow's voice bore a pleading, choked tone. 

Gnarl smiled. "The least I can do is give you a weapon, but not something with which you can 'destroy' me. You should know Evil always finds a way, elven boy, and you can never keep it down. Observe." His clawed hand shot towards Shadow, and the bony fingers spread against the whirling, dark skin. His eyes lit up, and the same happened to Shadow's pupilless blue eyes. As Estell watched, the blackness of his counterpart deepened, and he felt the strange cold that emanated off him grow stronger. 

Shadow inhaled sharply, and turned his hands in front of his face. He clearly saw the difference, too. 

Estell looked down at the old Minion, his eyes wide. "Did you…" 

"I do think so." 

At that moment a soft voice resounded through the cavern, floating over the water.

"…Estell?" There was a careful tone to it, and as Estell looked around he saw how the curtain of hanging vines was pulled aside with at least as much care. Sora stepped into the open, and first looked up at her surroundings in surprise – the overgrown walls, the water, the strange tower that seemed to grow from the rock itself. Then she saw him, and she ran towards him through the water, even before she noticed Gnarl. "Estell, we thought you wanted to be alone for some time, but I started to worry and…" She cast a glance around Estell's head and shoulder, and her words died in her throat. 

Shadow had hidden behind Estell almost instinctively, but he could no longer hide himself now. 

"…Estell, what is…" 

Widened blue eyes without pupils stared at her. Shadow was completely visible, unveiled, and incredibly vulnerable. But despite all that, a very shy smile did creep onto his face.  
"Hello, Sora."

"He's been with me since my birth, Sora. My mother told me how I came to her one day and asked her how it was called… a dark figure that looked just like me, but not a mirror image… that was the day I gave him his name, Shadow." Estell ran a hand through his hair. "He's a part of me." 

Sora stared at him, then looked back at Shadow. "He was there all along? He's seen everything?" 

"All my life." 

"And…" Her green eyes softened. "Shadow." She actually addressed the black, floating presence now. "You've been invisible for all that time. All that time, forced to…" 

"You are… the first elf to see me, save for Estell," Shadow spoke timidly. His eyes met hers for the briefest moment, then he cast his gaze down again. 

Sora outstretched her hand. "Shadow, I'm so glad you're really with us now." 

Estell abruptly lifted his head. "Really?" he uttered. 

Sora turned to him. "He's a part of you," she repeated him. "And I love you, Estell – every part of you. I'm genuinely glad his isolation is over." She smiled up at Shadow. "We can help you fit in, right?" 

Estell smiled wordlessly and took her into his arms. Sora laughed, and outstretched her hand to Shadow once more. He quickly joined them, spreading his dark arms and enveloping the duo in his dark embrace. "We're going to help you, Shadow," Estell laughed. "Everything will be alright from now on…" 

A brief cough interrupted them, from a little distance away. Estell, Sora and Shadow turned.

Gnarl was watching them, from one of the small, flat islands barely breaking the water's surface throughout the cavern. He smiled dryly. "This has to be the most elven awakening of inner darkness I've ever seen. Bravo." 

Sora pulled away and slowly stepped towards him. "Estell, who's this?" 

Estell opened his mouth, but Gnarl beat him to it. He took Sora's hand between his long fingers and pressed a kiss on the back of it. "Fair lady, my name is Gnarl. I assume you're Estell's first Mistress – I think you're most suited for the position… a worthy companion for my old Master's son, yes." 

Green eyes turned back to Estell. "What does he mean…?" 

Estell sighed. "He claims that the old Emperor… Overlord… Sayron… kidnapped my mother during his dark reign, and darkened her as well, and she only escaped him when she was already pregnant. I have his hair and her eyes, he says." 

Gnarl looked back up at Sora. She yanked back her hand, but didn't say a word. 

"Sora. It can't be true. Not even with…" Estell looked up at Shadow, but he, too, was silent. 

Then Sora's clear voice resounded over the water again. "After the shipwreck… after my parents and I had been taken captive by the dwarves and we were sold in Nurri… after we lost my father… then my mother started telling stories about the good days on Everlight. She sometimes told me about the war with the Empire and the Netherworld, when Sayron was still Overlord. And she also told me Queen Fay disappeared for weeks in those days, after the battle for Orntal had been lost, and that she came back with a bloodthirst and lust for battle matching his. We won the siege on Arcadiopolis thanks to her. Not long afterwards she came back to us, kind and light as before." She looked up at Estell. "She was with him, Estell. She was with the Overlord. About a year before your birth." 

"They kept it a secret where you were," Gnarl joined in, triumphantly. "Nobody dared tell those stories with you around, or Fay. But as soon as groups of elves were lost…" 

Estell stared ahead. "So… everyone… all the adults in the Sanctuary… they knew, but my mother forced them to keep quiet?" 

"That is possible being queen. Of course, an Overlord would simply have killed an elven pup, and gotten another Mistress pregnant, but elves, well…" Gnarl folded his hands. "Don't get me wrong, I am grateful. In this ridiculous new world you're the closest we have to a suitable candidate. Doesn't your name mean 'hope'? Last hope?" He grinned. 

Estell's eyes were empty. Shadow seemed just as lost, and he clearly wished he could be invisible again. 

Sora stepped towards him. "This doesn't change you." 

He looked up at her. She took his hands. "Estell, this has been true for all your life. Just like Shadow. The fact it's been… made visible… does not change the truth. This is the way it was all along." She hesitated. "Use it to your advantage." 

"That's the spirit!" Gnarl exclaimed. "Perhaps it doesn't change him, but it makes things so much more interesting! Welcome to the darkness, my boy!" 

"I don't think that's what Sora meant," Estell smiled weakly. "Right?" 

Sora only grinned back at him. Estell widened his eyes. "Right…?"

Evening, and the rest of the elves had been let into this strange, sheltered part of the gorge.

Almost everyone was busy making themselves at home along the edges of the lake or on the flat islands, or exploring the strange tower cautiously. Now they'd walked around it they'd discovered the other side hid a jagged hole that allowed access to a narrow winding stairs, but there still didn't seem to be a designed entrance. 

Shadow had been received with awe and incomprehension, but the former slaves seemed to accept this aspect of their prince and unofficial leader, more or less. That wasn't true of two others, however. 

Miruvor had – unsurprisingly – reacted with more distrust. He'd largely been ignored, however; for the others, it came down to a choice between him and Estell, and even Isil was more on Estell's side now. 

The one resisting the most was Talmar. 

"Sayron's son," he kept saying, pacing to and fro through the shallow water. "The son of the man we always thought killed your father. The nephew of Overlady Jinx. Estell, this…" He ran a hand through his long, black hair. "Well, to be honest I can even live with that. We don't choose our parents, and it indeed does not change you, as Sora keeps repeating…"

Violet eyes bored into Estell's blue ones, and then, uncomfortably, in Shadow's. Then in a third pair, ambery yellow and faintly glowing. "But this! This… creature!" 

"Minion," Gnarl remarked serenely. 

"This Minion! Estell, this is Sayron's advisor, Jinx' right hand! It wouldn't surprise me if he gave them the ideas that led to the fall of Orntal…" 

The old Minion coughed briefly. "I am modest by nature, but, indeed. My advice led to the torture and death of quite a few elves, the fall of Oberon, the Sanctuary beneath Nordberg, Orntal, and the Last Sanctuary." 

"Give me one good reason not to kill you right here, right now," Talmar gnashed. He unsheathed his slender blade and lifted Gnarl's chin with it. The old Minion didn't even blink, not even as a little trickle of dark blood crept down his neck and into his cloak. Talmar looked at Estell, fire in his eyes. "Estell, he's a distraction, a problem. He'll only hold us back. He's dark!" 

"Not completely true," the advisor chimed in. "Well, save for the dark part. My good elves, do you have a purpose in life?" He gingerly pushed the tip of the blade away from his neck. 

"Take back Evernight and Everlight," Talmar growled. "Restore light magic to its former glory, by destroying dark magic, among other things!" 

"And boys, how are you planning to do all that?" 

Talmar fell silent. His eyes were still blazing, but both he and Estell were tongue-tied for the moment. 

"That's what I thought," Gnarl spoke, not without satisfaction. "And here I am, bearing a solution of sorts. Everyone seems to want some piece of land back… or freshly added to their territories. King Thorlond, far away in Stodir, for example, has such a thirst for conquest that rumour has it he's discovered a brand new continent, simply to _have_ it. Throughout the centuries conquest has been the major hobby of about all my Masters and Mistresses. And now you. You're just as bad. You really aren't that different, boys. You're really not that noble. I can practically empathize with you without having to see my lunch again." He grinned, aware of the fact he had their attention now. "How would you like it to take a few pretty realms from the dwarves? Why stop at Evernight and Everlight? Aren't you curious?" 

Estell exchanged glances with Talmar. "We did kind of leave the Sanctuary out of curiosity," he admitted. 

"Estell!" his friend hissed. 

The white-haired elf looked at him, hesitantly. Then Shadow spoke in his stead. "How?" he asked. 

Gnarl slid a hand inside his grey cloak. "Ah," he spoke, a hint of triumph to his voice. "With this." As his bony hand came back into sight, a soft golden light came with it. Leather emerged from the grey folds, weathered and slightly singed. A firm arm piece, a fingerless glove... and then the Minion turned the object over, and a radiant amber gem was revealed, embedded in the back of the hand. 

"This, Estell, is the leather gauntlet of Overlady Jinx. With a bit of tweaking it might fit you, too. With this jewel you will be able to turn life force into Minions, to put it simply." 

"Estell, if you do this..." Talmar stared at the gauntlet in horror. 

"Talmar. I'll hold the power. I'll be the Master. Isn't that right?" Estell questioningly turned to Gnarl. 

"The Master, certainly. In theory, you'd be an Overlord. You can fill in the details any way you like!" 

"Isn't this the best chance we have, Talmar? So far we've been lucky, but this gives us the chance to direct our own fate. You know very well what power the one commanding Minions holds. A heading, a heading that might lead all the way back to our old homelands... to free elves wherever we go, to break the grip of the dwarves!" 

"That worked out so well, the last time darkness stood against Stodir," the black-haired elf snorted. 

"I can say the same about you," Gnarl countered. "You've never won a decisive battle against the dwarves. We defeated king Goldo under Lord Vessperion's rule. I've spent two years sneaking towards Ruboria through their realm, I've kept my eyes open. We learn from our mistakes, and now I offer you the chance to benefit of that." 

"It's the best chance we have, Talmar," Estell repeated softly. 

Talmar kept silent. After a while, he looked back up at his friend, and nodded, barely noticeable. 

Estell nodded back, grateful. "Gnarl, I accept your offer." 

With a low bow that had his ears dragging across the floor, the old advisor handed over Jinx' old gauntlet to Estell. "Then I hail you, Lord Estell, my new Master. I cannot tell you how happy I am to serve under the amber gem again… for the first time since very long, under an elf! I'm most curious as to where this is going to lead." 

"To Minions, I think," Shadow chimed in quietly. "The jewel turns life force into Minions, you said, but where do they come from?" 

"Ah, technical details," Gnarl nodded. "Well, my boy, Minions are born from pure life force, and that life force is gathered via the gem, but it has to go through one of the four Hives before an actual Minion is spat out into the world. The Hives were torn from my former home two years ago, by the dwarves. I don't know where they are now." 

"Four… Hives?" 

Gnarl raised four fingers and went over them. "The brown clan, strong and combative; the red clan, horned and fiery; the green clan, stinky, and when they want it, invisible; and at last the blue clan, swimmers, healers and fairly good with magic." 

"The blue clan," Shadow muttered, exchanging a glance with his counterpart. "Estell… as we saved Sora and the others… that sled full of blue creatures. They had the same yellow eyes as Gnarl." 

Gnarl's eyes widened. "You've _seen_ them? Where?" 

"In the desert," Estell muttered. "In a slave sled, on its way north. The sled was full of small blue creatures…" He strained himself to remember the details. "Yes, yellow eyes, and webs along the sides of their faces. There was something else in the sled with them, a large thing, covered with a dark cloth." 

"That must have been the Hive," Gnarl said, excitement in his voice. Suddenly he groaned. "You were so close… oh, those poor blues. They're so delicate, especially with dehydration…" His eyes shot up, to Estell. "Where are they now?" 

The brand-new Overlord was frozen in place for a moment, but then he hastily looked around. "I'll go get Sora."

"Where we were headed?" Sora's face crumpled in disgust. "Me and a lot of the others were destined to be sold to the Ruling Hammer of Napata, Borvar Ucat Zuden. He's claimed quite the palace for himself, close to the river, I hear, with bronze pipes through every wall to supply him with dwarven beer. A wobbling, stinking drunk, no doubt, I don't even have to see him to know that… who's asking?" 

"Napata," Gnarl spoke, pensive but at the same time uncharacteristically feverish. "To the north, on the banks of the Kemetis… Quite firmly in dwarven hands, if that's where the Ruling Hammer is. Yes," he chuckled. "Not a big surprise, really, they still haven't taken Kerma… so they appointed Napata as the temporary capital of new, dwarven Ruboria." He fiddled with his long fingers. "So… Napata. Perhaps, if we're really quick, we could still intercept the sleds before they arrive, but I don't think there's a chance of that. I think… my Lord… we have our first mission." 

"It's all happening so fast," Estell spoke. He grinned. "A good change. I didn't like it, being stuck in the Sanctuary, away from the world, without a trace of influence. And Talmar," he added, turning to his friend, "you didn't either, I know so. This might be the best thing to have happened to us in a long time. Unexpected, but… _oyneng yar_." He exchanged glances with Sora. "A sunset can be as beautiful as a sunrise." 

"And sometimes more so," Gnarl nodded. "Very elven and poetic, Master. I suggest we prepare for our upcoming journey." 

"Tomorrow," Estell added hastily. "We're exhausted." 

"Tomorrow," Gnarl agreed. A smile curled around his rubbery lips. "A good night's rest, Master. The best. Tomorrow everything begins." He turned, and shuffled away through the water, to the crumbling tower in the heart of the open space. 

Later, as Estell lay down on his sleeping mat, tweaking with Jinx' old gauntlet and clenching and relaxing his fist to make the leather a bit more flexible, he imagined how the old Minion's piercing yellow eyes were fixed on him, staring away from higher up in the tower. But even with that in mind, the rushing of the leaves covering every wall eventually lulled him into a deep, well-deserved sleep.

High up in the tower, not all the way in the top but still about seven meters above water level, the old Minion curled up on a thread-bare sleeping mat. His yellow eyes lit up the small room for a little while, however. Long fingers played with a small jewel around his neck, a weathered arcanium disc set with five little stones; golden yellow, red, green, blue, and deep purple. Around and around the little disc spun, the glowing eyes wide open in the dark. 

"A start," he muttered. "Two years of travel, in the shadows, through that accursed dwarven realm, but here we are, Lord. I have him." A smile curled around his mouth. "I have him," the old Minion sighed. The yellow eyes slowly closed.

Yellow eyes opened. And again, and again, until he was completely surrounded by pairs of glowing lights in the dark. 

Estell feverishly stared around, aware he was dreaming, but unable to escape the staring gazes. He felt nailed in place by the eyes, and confusion rose in his chest – why had his dreams changed like this? Where was the shipwreck of every normal night? 

Then, straight ahead, another pair of eyes opened, silvery grey this time. Then this pair, too, faded into glowing, liquid amber. The eyes narrowed, but Estell could not make out whether the owner was grinning or glaring at him maliciously. 

Then all lights faded, save for one. A single, pale golden light, swaying gently in the dark, like the glowing stone above Gnarl's head that'd lit the darkness of the tunnel… 

Yes, Gnarl appeared, his back to him, stepping on through the dark. The old Minion didn't look back. As Estell hesitantly stepped towards him he shrunk down, and his entire body jolted – and then all at once monstrous forms ripped through his cloak. 

Estell jumped back, forced to stare up, his eyes wide. 

Wings unfolded from the old Minion's shoulders – giant black sails of wings, the angular bones clearly visible, the ragged tears along the edges of the membrane silhouetted against the suddenly flaring, dull orange glow. But that wasn't all. Gnarl's body deformed even further, and now three monstrous heads rose from where a single neck had been. Three black-scaled faces with sharp features turned to look at him. Six liquid golden eyes fixated him with a fiery, reptilian gaze. As if to equal the flaming expression, curtains of fire suddenly roared up around the three-headed dragon; blazing flames, cascades of sparks, and as Estell looked around him he realized he floated above the glowing abyss again, with nothing to shield him from the orange light. He stared at his hands and jolted as he saw they were dripping with blood. 

"_Find me._" 

The voice resonated straight through him, and for a single moment his heart stopped. He looked up, and before his eyes his hellish, almost white-hot surroundings changed colour, and even more notably, temperature. Around him the fire and sparks solidified into clear, blue-white ice. An intense, numbing cold washed over him. And still the six golden eyes stared straight into his soul. 

Estell tightly closed his eyes.

His own ragged breath woke him. 

Blue eyes opened, in the calm darkness of the overgrown gorge in Ruboria. The night was cool, the gorge dark, and around him his companions slept. Sora lay beside him, and her presence already calmed him a great deal. 

The cold was still there, however. 

He looked up, to see Shadow floating above him. For a moment claws of panic gripped his heart, but then he calmed again, so suddenly it even surprised him. Shadow outstretched a comforting black hand, and even as the cold intensified Estell relaxed, exhaling deeply, and his eyes slowly closed. 

"Sleep, Estell," Shadow whispered. Promptly the young elf's body relaxed completely, and his breathing grew regular again. 

Estell wouldn't dream anymore tonight. 

Shadow looked down on his counterpart's body for a moment, a faint smile around his lips. Then he turned in the air, and looked up at the tower at the heart of the open space. In one of the higher openings in the walls, crumbling and glassless, the light of Gnarl's stone still glowed faintly.

**(MORNING)**

Something tickled his face. 

Dimmed light filtered through his eyelids before Estell had fully woken up, and he knew it was morning this time. He sleepily stretched himself and rolled over, but the tickling continued, over his cheeks, eyelids and forehead. 

He opened his eyes. 

And stared straight into a monstrous, gleaming black face, with jagged jaws and reflective, soulless white compound eyes, just beneath the long black antennae that had tickled him so innocently. With a scream he grasped at his sword and ran the monster through, just below the jaws, straight through the bloated body, covered by mottled yellow shields. 

An abrupt hiss had him think that over again. 

Mottled yellow shields and alarming hissing, accompanied by thin jets of white steam… 

"_Everyone up!_ he roared. "_Bomber beetle!_" 

The elves around him were awake at once and they rolled aside, their hands over their heads, cowering against the rock walls, some running away altogether. Not half a second later the dying bomber beetle exploded in a shower of yellow and brown chitin, entrails and convulsing black legs. A large scorch mark remained on the rocky ground. 

Estell stared around. There were more beetles in the cavern, but they seemed discouraged by the death of the first one. They retreated towards the tower. 

From where someone came walking towards them. 

"Gnarl," Estell called out. "Why didn't you tell us there were bomber beetles here?!" 

"Good morning, Master," the old Minion spoke spryly. "Why aren't _you_ wearing the amber gem? A true Overlord never takes it off!" 

Estell opened and closed his mouth in indignation. "You…" 

"Me? Your training starts today, my boy!" Gnarl reached him, careless of the other startled elves. He glanced down at the scorch mark, surrounded by fragments of barbed black legs. "That was careless, Lord. Look first, strike later! Not very much later, of course." 

"When I see such a monster right above me when I wake up…" 

"Monster? Last time I saw them, bomber beetles were simply a part of Ruborian fauna, and not even the most dangerous part, Lord. I thought you elves held the belief all nature was taken care of by your Mother Goddess?" 

Estell growled. "Filthy creatures…" 

"So there are exceptions? I thought she'd even accounted for the dwarves at the dawn of the world." 

"No," the white-haired elf muttered. "No exceptions." He hesitated. "But…" 

"Good! We, being the dark side, kill everything equally. Bomber beetles are a good exercise, don't get me wrong." Gnarl stepped on, and some sleep-dazed elves moved out of his way. A few yards from the scorch mark was a gleaming golden orb of light. "This, Master, is life force, and today you're going to learn to handle it." He cast Estell a glance. "Put on the gauntlet, boy. I can take the sight of you more easily if you at least resemble an Overlord in that."

**So, training has begun for our new Overlord it seems. Will an elf be able to cope with the pressures of building the Dark Domain? Or will he fall like so many before him? Stay tuned to find out.**


	5. Truth in Bloom Part 2

**All respect and credit for this brilliant story to Sunjinjo.**

**Truth in Bloom Part 2**

The first attempts to store life force in the amber gem were catastrophic. Estell was a magical creature, and he could, as Gnarl explained to him and he'd heard before as well, touch and pick up life force. The hands of non-magical creatures would simply slide through it. Despite his inability to use magic actively he did succeed in this, but he didn't yet have any authority over the gem around his left wrist. Jinx' old gauntlet did fit him by now, and the gem shone brightly, but it just didn't listen to him. 

"If you don't get the life force into the gem, the Hives will never be seeded and you will never be able to refill your hordes with new Minions," Gnarl spoke in his creaky voice. The golden light dropped by the bomber beetle had faded by now, and they walked through the gorge side by side, looking for the rest of the yellowy-brown insects. 

Gnarl looked at his new Master annex pupil sideways. He recalled different times, when others had had trouble getting used to the jewel – the gleaming relic did seem to resist at times, to remember its previous owner, and that was most understandable in this case. From Mistress Jinx to this elf… two years of silence weren't enough to make that transition easier. He shot the jewel an almost stern look. _We need him. We're lucky if he joins us at all, even if this goes right._

Eventually they found more bomber beetles, in shallow tunnels and gaps on the edges of their well-lit, overgrown bubble. Without doubt, an entire colony nestled here, eggs, larvae and all, but for now they only found adult beetles. Gnarl instructed Estell on how to kill them best – a swift stab and a swifter escape. "Never fight them in cramped spaces, Master," the old Minion remarked before folding his ears down. The explosion was deafening, but didn't do much damage, except to the rock wall. The crumbling sandstone was weak here, almost loose, and a large crater remained in the wall. Gnarl frowned. _Hmm._

As Estell stepped towards the severed life force, the amber gem around his wrist flickered, as if it pondered Gnarl's ideas. As the elf hesitantly outstretched his hand and concentrated, staring into the glowing heart of the light, it seemed to subtly move towards him. 

Gnarl grinned, remembering different times and places. "That's it, Master, go on…" 

Slowly, as if reluctant, the light whirled up to Estell's wrist. The young elf's blue eyes widened, in shock and disbelief. Gnarl could easily guess what he was thinking: _I'm doing what Overlords have been doing for centuries._

"That's _it_," the advisor grinned. "Congratulation, Master, you hold stolen life force. As soon as we get the brown Hive back, that little orb of light will spawn a brand-spanking new brown Minion, completely loyal to you and ready to complete whatever insane tasks you give him." 

"I'm defying the Mother Goddess," Estell muttered. 

"Forget the Mother Goddess. The Mother Goddess didn't help you as you were stuck in the Sanctuary, or during the shipwreck, or during the battle of Orntal. The Mother Goddess was nothing before Lord Sayron or Lady Jinx. This world belongs to Overlords, Master, and now that you're one yourself you can't afford any doubt any longer. Everything is yours for the taking, you only have to take it!" Gnarl caught the glint in the blue eyes, and he knew he'd struck a chord. "Everything is rightfully yours for the taking," he repeated, softer, insidiously. "And the day will come when we clarify that to the dwarves. The first steps have been taken, Master." 

Estell looked at him, and Gnarl could see he still didn't trust it yet. The old Minion smiled. _Clever boy._

"And what's in it for you?" the young elf asked. "I don't believe you're doing it all just for me." 

"I don't ask questions, Lord. I only serve Evil," the advisor answered. "We Minions need a Master, and you fit the bill just fine." 

"Symbiosis," Estell concluded. 

"At the cost of the world, but what does the world matter in the dark glow of our arrangement?" Gnarl grinned, broadly now. "I'm glad you're in, Lord." He could see how the title strengthened Estell. The boy needed recognition, and he'd give it with pleasure. "Now," he started, changing topic. "If we want to get to Napata, and escape it with the blue Minions, we're going to need transport." 

"We have about twenty-five Ruborian unicorns, in good health," Estell spoke. 

"They're called falcicorns here, but I'm talking about something faster than them, Lord. Before, in the days of my former Masters, we used Tower Gates, magical links leading back to the Dark Domain, which could be summoned almost everywhere in the world. There are quite a few still intact, leading back to the Netherworld, even though they're inactive now, and there's even a few ruined remains that once led back to the Tower of which Lord Vessperion was the last Master." Gnarl's ears drooped slightly. "Those Gates are far away from here, however, and at that, we need paths that lead back to your own base..." 

"This cavern?" Estell asked, a faint smile on his face. "From one overgrown cave to the other, hm?" 

"But this one has a tower, Lord," Gnarl spoke slyly. "I don't precisely know what kind of construction it is, but we might yet find out…" 

Estell's eyes lit up. "I think we have something that might help us. Or, no…" His expression darkened again. "Those gates would lead back to my mother's Sanctuary…" 

Gnarl patted his gauntlet and walked past him. "Let's see what we can do about that."

As Estell practiced with life force there was someone keeping an eye on him from above. From time to time, that was. Talmar spent more time looking up, and even more climbing up. He clung to the vegetation covering the hollow rock wall painfully, hanging on to every minuscule flaw, and clawed himself up to the light falling in through the narrow crack at the top of the bubble slowly but surely. 

He wasn't planning to escape – escape from what? He simply wanted to see what lay above their heads; a threat to their new settlement, something that could be of use to them, or only searing emptiness. 

Now and then he looked down, at the elves in the great cavern, the former slaves, Sora, Miruvor, still lying on his stretcher listlessly, Isil trying to use his plant singing magic but still failing, and of course Estell, in a faraway corner close to the opposite wall, with that hunched creature, Gnarl. 

And then of course there was... 

"Hi, Talmar." 

...the newcomer. 

The black-haired elf briefly looked back, hanging on to a few vines, his feet on a narrow ledge. His eyes bored into blue, glowing emptiness. No, he thought to himself, no newcomer. He'd always been there, an invisible part of his best friend, who he'd never truly known at all. 

"Hello, Shadow," he replied through gritted teeth, with exertion or something else. 

Estell's inky black, smoky counterpart effortlessly floated along next to him, his blue eyes darting nervously between him and the rock wall, dark hands shyly folded behind his back.

"I... I wanted to introduce myself in earnest. Yesterday wasn't…" Shadow looked away again. He opened his mouth, but Talmar was faster. 

"Yesterday was an exhibition." 

"Yes." Shadow fell silent again for a moment, uncomfortably. "…What are you doing up here? You're already a good climber, you don't need practice." He smiled nervously. 

Talmar stared into nothingness for a moment, once again reminded of the fact Shadow had been watching him at all times and knew everything about him. "I wondered what's above this space. Seemed useful to know." 

"I can help," Shadow abruptly piped up, soaring up at once. He shot to the illuminated crack in the ceiling, shielded his face with his arm and flew through. 

Talmar clenched his jaws as he stared after him. _Shadow._ A part of Estell, but still incomparable in almost everything. In less than a day he'd been forced to admit he barely knew his best friend. And even the white-haired, tangible part moved further out of his reach by the minute. He looked down again. The brand-new Overlord and his advisor came back to the heart of the room, the sandstone tower. 

"Talmar!" 

He looked up. Shadow was coming back, a dark silhouette against the light towards which he'd been climbing. 

"Is there anything up there?" Talmar heard himself asking. 

"No life in sight. Just huge rock claws, arching over the gorge. It looks very uninviting, no one will bother us from there." Shadow smiled, clearly glad he could've been of use. "Well…" 

Talmar sighed. It was no use to stay bitter. This was the least threatening dark creature the world had ever seen, that much was clear to him. He forced himself to smile in turn. "You know…" he said as he started climbing back down again, "it does explain a lot. That you're visible now, I mean. I caught Estell talking to himself so many times… or so I thought." For a moment his smile grew sincere. "When we were young, he actually played with you, didn't he?" 

"He wanted to fly like I did," Shadow nodded, grinning. 

"It's strange," Talmar admitted, figuring he might as well say it. "You know me, but I don't know you at all." 

"We should fix that," Shadow replied. "If you want to. I… know what you think of darkness." 

"I… I'm sorry if I…" 

"It's alright," Shadow smiled. "I mean, I'm hardly the darkest entity here. I'm no threat to you." 

Talmar gazed down. The ground was quite a bit closer now, and they could hear the elves below them talking. "You mean Gnarl? How much darkness can that withered body hold?" 

"More than you think, but that's not even all. It's this place. There's something buried here that's just radiating evil." 

Talmar let himself drop the last few yards, and Shadow glided down with him. "Is that why…" 

A new voice cut him short. "Good morning, everyone. Has anyone seen Isil?" 

Estell came striding in through the water, Gnarl by his side. Talmar repressed a shiver – the image of an Overlord with his advisor brought up some strong feelings, but he didn't want to have those around his best friend. 

"Here I am, Estell," a familiar voice rang out. Water splashed up as the young plant singer hurried over to Estell and looked up at him expectantly. 

"Do you still have the gate seeds?" 

"Here," the young elf said, pulling up the small pouch from his tunic. 

Estell exchanged glances with Gnarl. "Do you think it'll work?" 

"We'll know when we try, Master." 

"Isil, do you think you can grow a flower gate – a central flower gate?" 

Isil looked up at him with wide eyes. "A central one? I don't know… Estell, my magic doesn't work here at all. I haven't been able to sing anything to life since the oasis. We're still living off the rations I grew there, too." 

"Please try. We need transport, if we're going to travel really far later." 

A buzz coursed through the gathered elves. "How far?" one of the men asked with a slight frown. 

"I can't say for sure yet." Estell looked down at Gnarl again. The old Minion stared at the elves. "As far as Stodir in any case," he spoke. 

Another shock went through the group. "You're leading us to our demise," a flat voice sounded from the back. 

The elves looked back, and it became apparent Miruvor had spoken, from his resting place close to the rock wall. Brown eyes bored into Estell's. It was Gnarl to answer him, however. "Sometimes one has to manoeuvre close to death to attain even the slightest trace of glory, my dear elf. I know your people don't like risks very much, but you can't sink much lower than this, now can you?" He paused for a moment, and then turned to Isil. "Try it, boy. That can't hurt you." 

Isil nodded hesitantly and took one of the seeds from the pouch – a gleaming oval thing, pale blue with whirling patterns of deep indigo. He walked through the water to one of the little islands closer to the heart of the space and placed the seed on the soft soil. He looked at it for a moment, outstretched his hands, and sang. 

His clear voice resonated through the air, echoing off the walls and water, and the words he sang vibrated with magic – Estell could feel it, a shiver coursed across his back, and he knew the rest felt it too. This was plant singing at its best. He couldn't imagine there was a plant in the world that wouldn't react to this. 

But that was exactly what did happen. No matter how long Isil held on, the gate seed didn't react at all. 

Eventually the boy stopped singing, and looked back at the group. Estell nodded understandingly. "You were right." He rubbed his neck. "No flower gate, and soon, no food either… perhaps this isn't the right place to settle after all." 

"You think?" Miruvor bit at him sarcastically from across the shallow water. He huffed, tiredly. 

Estell ignored the crippled elf and turned back to Gnarl. "What do you think, advisor?" 

Gnarl stared at him briefly, with yellow eyes from which Estell still couldn't easily read anything. "Evil always finds a way," he then spoke. "I advise you to stay here, Sire, this is a reliable source of water and no one will find us here. If your plant singer can't let his plants grow here he should do so outside, or you must do as I do – live off the beetles deeper in the tunnels." He chuckled. "But I think that food source will stay exclusively mine." 

Isil stepped forward. "I couldn't do it in the gorge either. Whatever it is, its reach is long." 

"Evil always finds a way," Gnarl echoed.

The fact that Isil could no longer use his gift spread rapidly through the relatively small group of elves, now that it'd been spoken aloud. The mood worsened quickly, and the elves started looking at the remaining rations they'd taken along, first in the sleds and later on the falcicorns themselves – it was enough for a few more days, but after that they'd have to leave the gorge. But according to Gnarl, it'd be a bad idea to leave for Napata before they had a way of getting out again, fast, and the best plan still was to get out towards a safe place like this one. He seemed attached to the sandstone tower in which he'd waited for Estell's approaching presence, something the elf could understand in a way – the old Minion had lost a Tower twice before, or so he said. 

Eventually Estell left his advisor where he was and returned to the group. The concern of his companions was tangible. Dusk was setting in and everyone was hungry, but they were eating very little for fear of exhausting the rations further. 

He turned to Miril, one of the newcomers. "Do you still believe it's a sign?" 

"In a way, yes," the tanned elf replied. "This is the perfect place to settle, but we clearly have to do something more before we truly can." 

"In the gorge it was a good thing the plants didn't grow, otherwise we'd never have found this," Estell nodded, his eyes travelling around the cavern, starting to fall away into shadows. Without _athelin_ seeds they still couldn't build a lasting fire, and none of the other elves could create light – those gifts, too, seemed silenced by something about this place. "You were right about that. Perhaps you're right again." 

"Let's hope so," Miril smiled. "As that's all we can do now." 

"Hope?" another voice chimed in. Sora stepped from the shadows. "Hope is terrible – but it can make someone hold on for just long enough, too." She grinned at Estell. "Miril, you have a point once again. We held on yesterday and we found water and shade. Who knows, we might find food if we trust the Mother Goddess today, or whoever it is that keeps watch over these lands." She turned and raised her voice. "Everyone! Isil's voice alone wasn't enough to give life to the gate seeds or any others. But _all_ our voices might be worth listening to. What say you?" 

Agreement resounded from the group; not from everyone, but most of them seemed to like the idea. Somewhere in the back the sound of a flute already drifted up, and someone else drummed withered sticks to the rock wall to carry the tune. It didn't take long for the first voices to chime in. Sora looked back at Estell with a smile. "Hope," she spoke. "Let's see if it's good for us." She stepped forward and joined the song.

In the tower, on the same floor where he'd slept that night and many nights before, Gnarl folded his ears against his head. "Elves," he muttered. "If he wasn't my best chance…" He shuffled to the crumbling window and stared down. In the depths, the amber gem around Estell's wrist winked back at him as his young Master slowly walked to the centre of the group.

Further to the edge of the group was Isil, feeling very lost. He wished he wasn't the only plant singer of their group. He couldn't bear to add his voice to those of the rest. 

Then something dark suddenly flew past him, darker than the shadows of the gorge themselves. He looked up, into glowing blue eyes. 

"Shadow," he mumbled, barely audible above the song. 

The dark apparition descended to his height. "Don't blame yourself, Isil. I can feel the… magic… that's suppressing yours, and everyone else's. There's powerful darkness at work here." 

The boy searched his face in confusion. "Is it Gnarl?" 

"No. Something stronger, though it's far away – I can't even feel exactly where. But you can't overcome this, none of us can." 

"Can't the Mother Goddess help us?" 

"Perhaps," Shadow smiled. "As long as I don't disfigure her view of us too much." 

Isil frowned. "You've helped us. You've helped Estell. The Mother Goddess won't think badly of you." 

"I hope so, Isil," the dark figure sighed. 

Around them the song swelled and undulated in waves. 

The young elf stared into the glowing blue eyes and impulsively outstretched his hand to Shadow's. His fingers slid right through. 

Shadow smiled wider, and folded his hands around Isil's sunburnt fingers, enveloping his hand without touching it. Then he whirled around the young elf, ascended and started singing. 

Isil looked after him, then around at the others, and finally joined his own clear voice to the song.

The song still echoed through his head as the young elf awoke the next morning, on the soft banks of the clear, shallow lake. Muted light fell in through the ceiling and played over the water, and the air was cool, without a breath of wind. Above his head the long, deep-green vines reached down, hanging perfectly still. Some of them were blooming, with red and purple blossoms that were still convoluted at this early hour. 

Isil stretched. His tunic was half open, and the small pouch around his neck shifted across his skin. 

Something wriggled against his chest. 

The young plant singer looked down with a start, and his hand flew to the pouch. As his fingers reached inside, something wrapped itself around them, something thin and cool, with an almost tender grasp. He pulled back his hand, and held his breath as a delicate, pale little root came to light. The root ended in two fragile leaves, the pale blue seed pod still around one of them. 

Isil stared at the young plant in his hand with wide eyes. Then he flew to his feet, mad with joy. "_Estell!_"

"We've been heard," the white-haired prince smiled a little later, a little closer to the heart of the cavern, at the base of the sandstone tower. Isil placed the seedling on the soft earth very carefully, under the watchful eye of almost the entire group, including Gnarl – everyone'd been awake very quickly. 

"But you have to ask yourself, Master," the old Minion began, "if it was your Mother Goddess or something else entirely. After all, this helps me too." He grinned up at Estell, and with that, at Shadow too, floating next to his counterpart. "Did your light conquer darkness or was something else at play?" 

"That doesn't matter," Shadow replied. 

Gnarl chuckled. "You of all people think it doesn't matter?" 

"Not in the light of that," the dark apparition smiled, nodding at Isil. The young elf had outstretched his hands to the seedling and sang a few words, his voice vibrating with pride and joy to have his magic back. 

Then the young plant stirred. 

Before the eyes of the elves and Minion the stalk outstretched, reaching up at the faraway sunlight, branching and fanning out. The two pale leaves were replaced by larger, sharper, darker foliage. Then a quickly growing bud appeared amidst the leaves, glistening with life and almost bursting as it grew. Slowly it overshadowed the rest of the plant, the leaves underneath expanded, and the bud rose to the height of an adult elf. It changed colour, fading from green to blue, a deep, vivid colour. 

And the flower opened. 

The petals just kept coming, a sea of delicate, glistening blueness the likes of which Estell had never seen, growing darker and deeper in colour further inside. Then a light bloomed, reaching up like the first shoots, drifting up at the light falling in through the ceiling. 

Estell stared at it, almost unable to take in the beauty and vitality before his eyes. "Isil… this is fantastic." 

Gnarl nodded in appreciation. "Master, I think we have our central Tower Gate… Flower Gate." He turned to Estell. "The only thing missing now is Minions." 

"That's our next step," Estell agreed with a broad grin. "Blue Minions… to match our blue Flower Gates."

"The blue Minions are no fighters, Master.

They're not strong like the brown clan. Their magic is not aggressive like that of the reds.

They're not made for battle…

What they can do is resurrect other Minions, and heal the wounded…

…but they're uniquely unfit for the heat and drought of Ruboria." 

There had been deaths. 

There had been so many deaths, during the battle that led to the Fall, the fall of the Netherworld, of their Mistress, the Fall that ended in all four Hives being torn away and taken to Stodir. There had been deaths during the escape from the mountain city, and there had been deaths during the long swim south. And as the dwarves and their Ruborian allies had finally uncovered them, in a river delta halfway down to Saipern, then there'd been deaths too. At all those situations, not one of them had been able to pull the dead onto their shoulders and resurrect them. Missed chances, wasted lives, dead friends. 

And here they were, a shadow of their former selves, huddled around the dying Hive beneath the dark cloth that barely kept the moisture in place, at the gates of Napata. 

The remaining blue Minions were only with about twenty individuals, and they didn't have anything resembling high hopes. 

One of them glanced out from under the cloth, and looked up at the tall sandstone city walls, hellishly lit by unyielding sunlight. She – for this concerned one of the rare female Minions, and she no longer kept that fact hidden from her own clan – turned to the others.

"Well, even if we still had a Mistress, we'd be beyond saving now." 

"We've gotten out of more perilous situations, Trickle," the one sitting closest to the Hive uttered. He was missing his right arm, and his skin had been bleached to almost white. "And I've gotten out of quite a bit more than you," he added with a faint smile. "Hang on, everyone. Evil will find a way." 

"Let's hope so, Zap," Trickle nodded at her ancient, official leader wearily. She exchanged glances with the one who'd actually lead the horde in the field – Zap didn't usually leave the base, he was too fragile to participate in battle. The luxury of staying behind was long past them now, however. And even Drip, the strongest blue Minion still alive, slumped down lifelessly at this point. The heat and drought took their toll on everyone. 

Their slaver wrapped up his negotiations at the gate and their sled put itself in motion again.

The blue Minions slipped into Napata.

A messenger hurried to the heart of the city, where the palace of Napata's ruler rose up, all airy ventilated walls and gleaming curtains keeping the cool air in. In the past, Ruborian rulers had resided here, tall and dark. These days, the one residing there was a dwarf; the Ruling Hammer of Ruboria, installed in Napata as Kerma, the actual capital of the ancient desert realm, still hadn't bent the knee to Stodir. 

The decorated sandals of the messenger clicked on a smooth, reflective floor now, higher up in the palace. Through the open windows, only covered by barely moving, filmy curtains, the sounds of the city reached him; voices, music, the sounds of animals, but also the heavy pounding of dwarven boots and the unmistakable rumble of their voices and machinery – some used their massive rolling vehicles even inside the city. Inside the palace walls, the skinny Ruborian could hear the gulping and rattling of the copper pipes that'd been embedded there, and through which dwarven beer reached every corner of the palace. The Ruling Hammer took few things as seriously as his beer supply. 

The messenger stepped through a huge, open passage, wiped aside another semi-transparent curtain and gazed directly upon his ruler. 

Lord Borvar Ucat Zuden of Napata, seated upon a compact fauteuil, was a stocky dwarf with a round face and a thick russet beard, not trimmed or thinned despite the Ruborian heat – to a dwarf that'd be like amputating a limb. The beard was woven and braided at least as intricately as the long hair of the average elf, but no one would dare tell him or anyone of his people. The Ruling Hammer was busy enjoying a huge mug of foaming beer, like he did many times a day; back in Stodir he'd belonged to the very top of his clan, Ucat Zuden, the highly regarded brewers providing the mountain city with its traditional beverage. Beer was incredibly important to the dwarves, something the Ruborians, who rarely drank alcohol, found hard to understand. 

"Lord Borvar," the messenger bowed. 

The Ruling Hammer ended his long, deep swig and put down his mug. Tiny eyes beheld the Ruborian, from between the luxuriant beard and the hair on his head. 

"The… blue Hive and Minions have arrived, lord." 

"Very good," the dwarf rumbled. "Bring them here immediately, I want the Hive housed at once." 

"Certainly, lord." The messenger hesitated. "And… the sick?" 

"Those can wait," the Ruling Hammer grunted. "I want to inspect the vermin first. And as soon as the majority of the quarantine zone is healed I want them gone, to Stodir, you hear? King Thorlond is not as patient as I am!" 

The Ruborian nodded quickly. Then he halted again. "Lord… not all of the slavers have returned. And not all of the sleds, either. The elven slaves didn't arrive, lord." 

The tiny eyes narrowed, and a rumble ascended from the depths of his throat. "Sloppy," he growled. "I will let the king know about this. You can go." 

The Ruborian made off, bowing all the way. As the curtain fell back, lord Borvar hoisted himself up and drunkenly staggered to a sturdy, angular table close to one of the huge open widows of the chamber. He took a bronze pen and paper, and started writing.

As the Ruling Hammer wrote to his king about the arrival of the blue Minions, and his losses concerning slaves and slavers, the blue Hive was roughly hoisted onto the shoulders of Ruborian men and taken to the palace. The blues themselves staggered after her, forced to stay close, otherwise the life force keeping them going would give out. They were less focused than the Ruling Hammer himself, however, and not because of alcohol. These Minions were practically dying as they walked, even this close to the Hive. They didn't even have the strength to look up at their destination, even as its shadow mercifully fell over them and took the burning sun from their shoulders and backs.

And as the blue Minions finally fell into the hands of the enemy, after trying to stay free for all those years in case an Overlord would rise, an Overlord rose. Far from Napata, in the middle of the desert, between sandstone claws and gorges, Estell and Isil slowly but surely climbed to the top of the cavern where their sandstone tower stood, and finally reached the sunlit crack that was their light source. Far below them the vivid blue light of the central Flower Gate shone up, but soon enough, in the shadow of one of the rock claws, another light just like it bloomed above ground. 

And a little later still forms appeared from within that light, forms that'd stepped into the one gate in the gorge and emerged from the other above ground, forms astride silvery grey animals with scythe blades instead of elegant horns. 

Sora grinned at him from atop her falcicorn, and Estell answered that grin as she outstretched her hand and hoisted him into the saddle behind her with a little effort.

Shadow ascended into the sky and turned to the scorching, far-off horizon. 

The amber gem flashed as Gnarl's voice resounded close to his ear. "Good luck, Master. Your first mission awaits." Despite himself, the old Minion's voice was full of barely concealed pride. 

The falcicorns accelerated, kicking up clouds of sand in their wake, and Estell clenched his leather-clad fist. "Time to strike back."

**Flower Gates? I never saw that coming let me assure you. But it is nice to see diversity from the usual methods of Overlords and experiment with possible magical talents of other species. Anyway, please review readers and we'll see you next time.**


	6. The Serpent and the Worm Part 1

**I do not own this story, all credit to Sunjinjo, I merely supply it here.**

**The new Overlord has been chosen. Estell, son of Queen Fay and ex-former Overlord Sayron, and nephew to former Overlady Jinx. Will an elf be able to meet the approval of Gnarl and establish himself in the Dark Domain? Read on and find out.**

**The Serpent and the Worm Part 1**

Wings cut through the air, carried by thermals and hot winds, towards a scorching, undulating horizon. 

A horizon which was, after a while, broken by angular forms; walls, towers... civilization. The postal bird's eyes caught the glimmer of water, water which stretched out and didn't stop.

The Kemetis was a single river here, not a delta, but broad. From the air it was clearly visible how the water sustained a strip of green on both sides; flooded fields of papyrus and reed, and drier farmland. The bird could not understand or value it, but the city was visibly dependent on the river, which was also the reason of its sanctity for the Ruborians. 

That opinion was not shared by the one the bird's message was for, however. 

The bird turned its wings and swooped towards the heart of the city on the banks of the Kemetis, where the palace of its rulers rose to the sky.

It'd been so easy, the Ruling Hammer of Napata mused, looking out over his city from behind a translucent curtain. It'd been so very easy to bring Napata low and add it to Stodir's domain. It hadn't even taken a battle. No, the decisive blow hadn't been dealt in war, to a soldier, but to the priests. The worship of Kemetis had already been intensified after the events of the past few decennia, but once the dwarves had convinced the Napatese high priests that their river goddess was a daughter of Stodir... then the dwarven interpretation of diplomacy had been advanced greatly indeed. Borvar Ucat Zuden chuckled to himself, a rumbling sound from deep down his throat. 

"Ruling Hammer, lord?" 

The dwarven leader abruptly stopped chuckling and turned. One of his servants approached him, a copper cylinder in his hand. Borvar hurried forward. "Is that..." 

"The letter from king Thorlond," the Ruborian nodded, handing the cylinder over with a low bow and hurrying away again. Borvar quickly unfurled the parchment and let his small eyes go over the contents. 

_...have drunk to the capture of the blue Minions...  
_

_...but the loss of the elven slaves should cost you part of your beard. You lost good slavers...  
_

_...order you, by the roots of the Mountain, to hand over your position to a clan member with more ambition..._

Borvar's eyes widened. 

_...or show more ambition yourself. Napata is the capital of dwarven Ruboria, but the true Ruborian capital has not been brought under Stodir's hammer…_

The Ruling Hammer clenched a massive fist. His beard trembled as his jaw tensed. He threw down the letter and abruptly strode down the hall. His roaring voice echoed through the entire palace. "Mobilise the army! Kerma will be brought under Stodir's banner on my command!"

Later that afternoon the entire city trembled beneath the combined force of the dwarven war machines. All of Napata's machinery had been gathered just inside the city walls, ready to flow out of the city, to the west where the capital lay nestled in the Kemetis delta. Kerma was still free and independent, and managed to sustain itself just fine through the trade of its harbours, but it was true that the dwarven king was not happy with this situation – mainly because there was an individual in Kerma who dared call himself the true Ruborian king. 

The threat of degradation was enough for Borvar to finally spring into action and do something about this. The dwarves and Ruborians of Napata all knew that Kerma didn't stand a chance against these war machines, and though the majority of Ruborians didn't like it at all, there was very little they could do. The original inhabitants of Napata looked on how the city gates were opened in a grand display of power, and the dwarven army left the city. The Iron Fist was ready to squish their true capital.

Just a few miles from there, the tanks, steamrollers, legions of dwarven and Ruborian foot soldiers, archers and flamethrowers were keenly observed by a second, very different audience. 

Hidden behind a long row of golden dunes, even despite the distance, were the Overlord and his companions, though an observant onlooker would only have guessed this from the amber gem on the wrist of one of them. Even that observant onlooker would not have taken the white-haired elf, clad in tattered, dark blue Sanctuary robes, for an actual Overlord; he wasn't armoured, his eyes didn't glow and there were no Minions with him, not one. But a truly observant individual would have seen the shadow stretching out beneath him. Normal shadows didn't have blue eyes, and they didn't move by themselves. Shadow was practicing his sneaking skills, but that was not easy with the blinding Ruborian sunlight beating down from straight above at this time of day. He had to shrink himself down quite far. 

And the onlooker would have to listen as well, to catch another clue, for instance the voice floating around the white-haired elf's head. 

"_It seems the Napatese army is leaving the city,"_ Gnarl pondered. _"And all of it, at that. It's almost as if they're inviting us in…"  
_

Estell stared at the procession. "We'd have had to deal with that?" His voice was reasonably calm, but Gnarl had experience with this. The boy was almost hyperventilating on the inside. 

"_The dwarves take their advance most seriously, Sire. It's said that the greed of their previous king, Goldo Golderson, has passed on to Thorlond and that's the reason for his outrageous and crushing conquest. Normally, all… __**that**__ would have been inside the city, yes…"_ Gnarl chuckled briefly_. "But now we're free to go and play! Oh, take it easy, Lord. It's almost time for the Ruborian siesta. It would've been quiet in the city anyway, at this time of day."  
_

Estell involuntarily wiped across his forehead, heated like a forge even despite the shade his hood provided him with. The day was almost at its hottest, and though they had a good reason to approach the city now, nobody was particularly pleased. He looked back and glanced at his companions – about twenty elves, most of them still riding their falcicorns. "Then this is our moment. Are you ready for this?" 

Sora dismounted and approached him. She briefly looked at him, earnest and proud, before she let her arms slip around his waist. "You can do this," she spoke close to his pointed ear. "I believe in it. In you." 

Estell held on to her for a moment and smiled. "Thank you. I'll need it." He freed himself, feeling a little better, and nodded down at the four gleaming dwarven bombs at her belt, carefully taken along from the slave sled's wreck. "You'll be careful with those?" 

"Of course," she smiled. "But I do hope we'll need them…" 

"I don't," Estell snickered. "We'll try a quiet approach, alright?" He mounted his own falcicorn, turned it and spurred it on. 

Feeling very naked and unprotected, the elven riders crossed the golden plain and closed in on Napata.

Obviously they didn't plan to enter through one of the city gates, even though they didn't expect many people – or dwarves – to be in the rest of the city while the army was still seeping away on the west side. No, Estell and his group rode for the wall itself, tall and angular, a deserted watchtower rising up every hundred meters or so. Or at least he hoped they were deserted. 

He groped around in his falcicorn's saddlebags and took out two long, sturdy vines, sung to life by Isil at the latest patch of fertile soil they'd had at their disposal. Even as Estell cast them out at the top of the wall, the young plant singer sung a gate seed to life and the falcicorns left the desert. Perhaps they'd have to leave Napata in a hurry, and Estell didn't want to lose the animals this soon. He did hope he would be able to take all the elves back again, especially Isil, as all the others who'd once been plant singers had told him their gifts had dwindled and faded during their years of slavery. He'd set himself the goal of finding out if that could be reversed. 

Gnarl had recommended them these living ropes, as he'd had years of good experiences with them. Estell had realized he'd meant his previous Mistress, and shivered briefly, but then he'd shaken off those thoughts. He'd have to get used to the fact he was working with Jinx' former advisor. 

And he had to admit Gnarl had been right, as he flung up the vines again. After a few tries they stuck around the angular battlements and the young elf could secure them. Shortly after, the agile elves climbed up along the wall. 

From the city wall they had a magnificent view across the flat rooftops on the outskirts of Napata, up to the point where taller buildings obstructed it. The elves quickly lowered themselves to the rooftops beneath them, and studied the city from there. Estell reeled in the vines – this probably wasn't their last climb. 

"_It seems best for you to move across the roofs,"_ Gnarl spoke_. "If I remember correctly, you elves are very capable at that."  
_

"We can jump further than humans," Sora agreed. She exchanged glances with Estell. "But…" 

"…but I've finally found out why I'm not as good when it comes to that," Estell finished with a wry smile. "I'm only half an elf." He shrugged. "I'll manage. Everything's possible with a good run-up." He pulled his hood further over his face and huffed. "Though I'm reluctant with this heat." 

"_You'll get used to it,"_ Gnarl chuckled. _"It's your own fault you've been safe and cool in the Sanctuary for all that time."  
_

"I thought you'd stop insulting me if I took the offer to be your Master," Estell remarked flatly. 

"_Forgive me, Sire."_ Gnarl's tone of voice was far from respectful. _"Well, seeing how we have barely any weapons, I think that's the first thing on our shopping list."  
_

"What do you propose?" Estell grumbled. 

"_Perhaps that huge temple over there? The Ruborians have been quite the fans of bloody sacrifice lately, I'm sure there'll be pointy stuff in there."  
_

Elven faces turned east. Indeed, slender towers rose up there, crowned with angular tops and covered in red and golden decoration and mosaic. Estell nodded. "Then that's our first stop."

Once they arrived, the main part of the temple, between the pillars, turned out to have an opening in the roof, perfectly circular, so the sunlight could fall in from straight above. It was almost too easy. 

Soon the elven trespassers rose from the polished floor. The temple was deserted – Napata was fast asleep, and Gnarl said there'd only be another mass in this temple at sunset. 

"_This is one of Deshretis' temples,"_ the advisor remarked, studying the warm colours covering the temple walls through Estell's eyes. _"The deity of sun, sand, heat and drought."_

"Not very loved, I presume," the Overlord answered absent-mindedly. He walked through the huge chamber slowly, appreciating the complicated geometrical patterns. The dully gleaming, golden floor did resemble the Sea of Sand. 

"_He was, once. In ancient times, that is. An offensive name for the time, I don't feel ancient at all."  
_

Estell chuckled. "What happened?" 

"_They started associating him less with the sun and more with the desert… sand worms."_

At that moment Estell stepped out from beneath a huge arch and his eyes fell to a giant gilded statue, one of two flanking a passage. He froze in place. 

It was shaped like a man, muscular and only dressed in a long, decorated loincloth. But where his neck and head should be something monstrous rose up – armour plates, a gaping, jawless maw full of rows and rows of teeth. Estell once again felt the chill of the desert night, and heard the wordless roar of the sand worm. He saw Arinya's sea-green, dead eyes.  
And he understood at once what Deshretis was the deity of, and why he was still worshipped. 

"I get it," he uttered. 

"Estell?" a voice resounded from the depths of the temple. He turned. Inside the circle of bright light falling into the main chamber was Sora, radiant as a second sun. 

"Do you think this matches me?" 

She was holding a giant sacrificial cleaver, the semi-circular, jagged blade almost bigger than her head, and like the statues, completely gilded. The light flew off it. 

Estell shielded his eyes and grinned. "Absolutely."

Despite the bloodiness of the Ruborian religion Gnarl had mentioned, and which Estell did not doubt after seeing the statues and blades, Deshretis' temple didn't hold enough weapons to arm the entire group. Gnarl had noted that Ruboria knew two deities and that the temple of Kemetis, the female opposer of the deity of sand and sun, would probably hold even more sharp things. And so the elves had climbed out of the temple the same way they'd entered, and overlooked the city once more from the domed roof. The sun was no longer exactly above them, and Napata started to become active again – the streets were no longer completely deserted, beggars and salesmen made themselves heard in loud Ruborian and here and there the stomping of dwarven boots also resounded, along with the rumble of their voices. 

"Complication?" the boy asked quietly. 

"_Depends on how far you can jump,"_ Gnarl replied, a grin to his voice. _"Spread out across the roofs. Twenty jumping elves in one spot tends to stand out."  
_

"Good idea." Estell looked out over the city. One spot shone out to him inevitably; a white and golden mountain of a palace, at the heart of the city, crowned with angular towers gleaming in the sunlight. "That's our final destination, I take it?" 

"_Looks like the seat of the Napatese ruler. Fair chance."  
_

"And where would Kemetis' temple be?" 

"_Probably close to the river. You know, the river that shares her name."_

Estell looked around, and shielded his eyes from the light reflecting from the broad serpentine river. It was pretty far away, but he could still see towers reaching for the sky there as well, about as tall as those of the palace itself. "Very well, then that's our course. We really need weapons, not just for this mission…" For a moment Estell felt a wave of desperation. How sure could he be of his survival, even of just this mission? He hadn't allowed himself to feel the full weight of all this yet; he didn't even believe he was in charge of this, trying to change the fate of his people. He could barely face the fact he had to shepherd a clan of Minions to safety, let alone believe this was just the first mission of many. 

One thing at a time. Kemetis' temple. He looked over his companions. "Let's go in three groups." He roughly divided the group with a gesture of his arm. "Talmar, you'll take them…" His friend nodded. "Sora, you'll take them. I'll take you." The elves nodded. "I hope I can keep up with you." This was answered with quiet laughter. 

It was a good thing they'd had practice in rooftop jumping as Napata had been asleep, as they'd have to be far more cautious now. Estell and his small group leapt across the narrowest alleys and the young elf didn't feel any eyes on him, but he was still very nervous. What would the people do if they were seen? He cast a glance ahead; there were just low buildings between them and the temple they were headed for, so no one would see them from above, but it's be harder to get to the palace at the heart of the city – that was surrounded by taller buildings. 

The city became livelier and livelier as they spurted towards the temple, and Estell saw – and smelled – how markets, shops and tanneries opened up again. Ruborians filled the streets for the most part, not many dwarves, and it was a very good thing the war machines had left the city… he couldn't be happy enough about that… 

"…oh, no," he panted. 

Just as he'd thought that, his gaze had fallen to something enormous, gleaming steel in the bright sunlight. Four exhaust pipes rose slightly above the roofs of the houses around it, from underneath a huge turret connected to the barrel intended for a single destructive purpose. All of that was supported by treads of at least five meters long. Estell thanked the Mother Goddess for the fact the metal monster was motionless. He slowed and gestured at his group, a little further away by now, to stop as well. He flattened himself and peered over the edge of the flat roof. 

The machine was busy being repaired. In the shade of the workshop it was in, dwarves were replacing one of the treads, and a few others busied themselves with the inner workings. That was why this one hadn't joined the exodus to the west. 

Estell worked himself back and rose to his feet. 

"Good luck," Shadow remarked from underneath him. 

"We're all in this together," Estell muttered. He looked down at his counterpart, flat as he was, and then back at his group. A few of them were gesturing for him to hurry. And indeed, the other two groups were much closer to the riverside temple already… 

Estell huffed for a moment, wiped the sweat from his brow, and ran for it in the scorching heat.

As they came closer to the river, the city started to take on a neglected appearance. The walls, carefully plastered white in almost all the rest of Napata, were flaking here and revealed the stone and clay underneath. More beggars riddled the streets, and quite a few of them were blind, judging by the cloth covering their eyes, or their walking sticks. Many were missing a large part of their hair. Further in still, they disappeared again, but the few people walking the streets here weren't much better off, or even worse. Some had little bells tied to their clothes or walking sticks. 

"_As a warning,"_ Gnarl remarked, from the empty air close to Estell's ear. _"This is a leper district. Logical for them to be downstream… Napata doesn't really care for the cities to the west, as they're almost all independent anyway. It's quite a good idea, weakening the enemy with disease before striking… even though such a huge river has little chance of infecting them,"_ the advisor muttered to himself. 

Estell nodded in understanding. "I wish there was something we could do."

_"Always the helpful son of Light, eh? Pfff."_

Miril, crouching on the roof next to Estell, placed a tanned hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. None of us have healing gifts any longer; all specialized magic has vanished since we fell into Ruborian hands." 

"Sora told me," the white-haired boy nodded. "But there were healers among you before?" 

"I was one myself," Miril smiled wryly. "I was used among Nurri's nobility, but probably a bit too intensively. It became increasingly hard to use my magic. Now I have nothing left."  
"I'm sorry." 

Gnarl grumbled. _"Enough talk. We'll soon have the blues back. It wouldn't surprise me if they were used right now to contain this outbreak… I hope __their__ magic isn't being depleted."_

Estell nodded. "Let's hurry."

A few minutes later they arrived in the shadow of the truly giant temple at the riverside, and they were reunited with the two other groups on a roof hugging the temple wall. Sora grinned as Estell joined her, panting with strain. She seemed unaffected by the heat, the wild rooftop run, or the extra weight of her bombs herself. "Well done." 

"Thanks," he panted. "I'll become good at it if I'm not careful." He stared up at the towers and domes of the temple above, covered in weathered mosaic. It was damaged in many places, but vividly blue and silvery at the intact spots. Not much higher up in the wall was an elegantly shaped, glassless window, and some elves were already busy getting in through it. Estell followed their example, pushing aside the silky curtain beyond as he let himself fall in.  
"Oh dear," he muttered. 

They'd gotten themselves – and were still getting themselves in a few cases – onto a high gallery above the ground floor, with a view on the heart of the temple, veiled in translucent fabrics almost all the way to the ceiling. Across from them the walls opened towards the river, and water was actually flowing into the temple, a shallow layer over the floor, in which the light of dozens of lanterns was reflected. Or at least, where the light wasn't obscured by the immense amount of people gathered here. 

There was a mass being held in Kemetis' temple. It was teeming with people in the shallow water, probably all of them lepers judging by the cloth tied around their faces and limbs, and five priests in flowing blue robes overlooked them from an elevated platform. 

Estell looked around. There were blades and other sharp ritual objects lining the walls, worked into flowing, snaking designs and scale-like mosaic, enough to arm the rest of the group. But it was too busy in the temple to get anywhere near them. 

The middle priest, the only woman, wearing a decorated headdress covering the back of her head and neck and snaking down her bare back, raised up a huge flattened bowl. As Estell looked on she swept it around wildly, so the water in it splashed over the gathered crowd. With his limited knowledge of the Ruborian language the white-haired elf caught parts of her speech. 

"Especially now the sun is high, I call upon our River Mother to grant you healing, healing from the divine water, not from the heathen magic of the blue demons!" 

"_Hypocrite,"_ Gnarl hissed into Estell's ear. Apparently, he spoke Ruborian as well. _"The magic of those blue demons is the only reason this city is inhabited again! All of Ruboria owes its existence to __us!__ But of course they show their gratitude by means of sacrifice to that __goddess__ of theirs…"_ He grumbled unintelligibly. _"Est- Master, I'd very much appreciate it if you'd tested Deshretis' sacrificial knives on the followers of his watery rival… the lepers can't fight and there's only five priests, this is easy."_

Estell stared down. "Because she's insulting the Minions? According to that logic I'd be allowed to kill you." 

Gnarl audibly gnashed his teeth. "_Elves!_" 

"I'm your Master. We're not killing them." 

"_You need weapons!"_ As Gnarl said this, the two priests next to the high priestess brought out slender, silvery blades, and the two outmost priests stepped back briefly, underneath the gallery where Estell couldn't see them. As they returned they were holding a struggling black lamb. Estell widened his eyes, but before he could act the little creature had already been sacrificed with an experienced stroke of both blades. Blood flowed into the water on the temple floor and created whirling patterns around the feet of the lepers, a sharp contrast with all the cool blue hues. 

"Wash away what Deshretis could not burn, River Mother!" the high priestess cried out. "Lift the shadow of this pestilence from the people!" 

"Shadow?" Estell muttered to himself. 

"Hm?" his dark counterpart asked. Estell looked down. His expression changed.  
"Shadow, you're going to help us get at those blades."

Now the lamb's blood had flowed into the Kemetis water and life had been sacrificed to the river goddess the lepers threw themselves to their knees, so water and blood splashed up and soaked the clothes and bandages of the people. Bound arms were outstretched towards the high priestess, still holding the gleaming bowl high. "We trust in you, o Kemetis!" it resounded. "Don't abandon us again!" 

"Kemetis won't leave us," the priestess spoke. "Not like Deshretis, not like it was in the days of the blue poison water. Kemetis will lift the shadow that's cast over this city…" 

"No one can lift the shadow." 

The high priestess' head shot up. Her dark eyes widened and a shriek escaped her. Some people ran out of the temple. Others remained, standing or kneeling as if frozen. 

Before her, above the heads of the people, floated an inky black apparition; tall, smoky and with glowing blue eyes in an otherwise invisible face. It folded its arms before its chest. "It's impossible to banish me. Give up your efforts." 

"Who… who are you?" the priestess uttered. 

The shadow closed in. "I am darkness. I am disease." He spread his arms. "I am _death!_" 

Now a storm of screams arose in the temple, and even the priests weren't unaffected now. Shadow had to fly another circle through the room and abruptly halt before the priestess' face before she reacted like that as well, but once he was done the temple was empty.

Reflections of the disturbed water shot across the walls and ceiling. 

Shadow let himself descend to the floor, shaky and relieved. Estell soon joined him, crouching and with a huge grin. "Shadow, that was fantastic. I didn't know you had it in you." 

"I don't have it in me anymore," his counterpart replied from the floor, under the water's surface. He'd shrunk himself down again. "It's good they ran away as fast as they did, I wouldn't have known what more to do." 

"_They ran into the leper district,"_ Gnarl observed. _"With any luck the priests will be infected, then your words will be true, Shadow!"_ The old Minion laughed maliciously. 

"I won't ask again for some time," Estell smiled, slightly rolling his eyes at his advisor. "But my huge compliments. Your Ruborian is far better than mine, too." 

"Thanks." 

"They'll worship you if you're not careful," Talmar remarked in passing. He walked over to one of the painted walls, where the weapons were secured, and took off a slender, reflective specimen to study it briefly and then pass it on to one of the others. Estell, Isil and him all still had their elven blades from the Sanctuary. "Here you go, Arandor, this matches you." 

"Thank you," the elf in question smiled. He raised up the weapon and nodded. "Indeed, this reminds me of my days in Orntal… it's almost been forged the elven way. I didn't hold or even see such a worthy weapon in ages." 

Estell came closer. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but weren't you a member of the high council… before?" He hadn't personally met Arandor before, but the short-haired, golden-blond elf had seemed familiar for a while. "The skinchanger?" 

Arandor turned to him as he secured the weapon in his belt. "That would be me, yes. Though I've been taught a lesson in humility since then. I'm afraid I lost my gift as well." 

Estell briefly lowered his head. "What was your animal?" He knew skinchangers could only transform into one animal form, and that in order to gain this ability they had to sacrifice the animal of their choosing to the Mother Goddess in a long and complicated ritual, which had a chance to go horribly wrong. Because of this the gift was very rare among elves, to whom all life was sacred. 

"A bird," Arandor spoke. "A golden yellow oriole with a black head. It didn't stand out on Everlight, and it was quite useful during the battle for Orntal… not that we won that one, of course." He grinned. "Well, if Sayron hadn't won that day, we wouldn't have such an able prince today." He squeezed Estell's shoulder. "I think everyone's been armed?" 

The young prince looked around. Arandor seemed to be right. "Let's leave before the priests come back." 

"_Wait a minute,"_ it then resounded, just next to his ear, in a creaky voice. 

"Gnarl?" 

"_Look at the altar."_

Estell reluctantly did what his advisor recommended – ordered? He knew they were in a hurry. Above the platform where the priests had been standing a text had been inscribed, framed by a relief of two undulating water serpents with fanning fins around their heads. The text was written in Ruborian, which he wasn't able to read. Gnarl did seem to know the written language, however. 

"_With this we call upon the blessing of Kemetis, our most sacred River Mother, born from the loins of mighty Stodir…"_ Gnarl broke off his sentence, falling back on a sound which made clear he was too angry to go on. _"Those dwarven vomit stains! That's why they hold the city like this! Ruboria isn't brought low easily, its people are strong, proud and arrogant… a bit like you, in one of those aspects…"  
_

"Please stop insulting us," Estell remarked, feeling he could just as well stop counting the times he'd done so and knowing he'd have to correct his 'loyal servant' a lot more often, and that it'd never be of any use. 

"_They've worked themselves in through the priests! Kemetis being Stodir's daughter, pah! Shameless… the dwarves don't care about any form of religion, Stodir's just a source of thermal energy to them…"  
_

"All very well, Gnarl, but can we go now? It's about your friends too, you know." 

"_Good idea. Get yourselves up on the roofs again and ready your plant singer. The climb to the palace won't be easy from what I've seen."  
_

Estell turned to the plant singer in question. "Isil, are you up to it?" 

"I can handle anything since I sung the Flower Gate to life," the younger elf replied confidently. 

"And can you sing another Flower Gate if you really have to?" 

"I think so." 

"Then we're off." Estell looked up at the gallery and the window through which they'd come in, but then paused. "Gnarl, do I remember correctly if I say the palace is next to the river as well?" 

"_If I have a good image of Napata's layout, yes."_ The advisor hummed in appreciation. _"And to answer your next question, I do think there are ships close by. I'm sure the priests don't live in the leper district."  
_

"Then we're headed _that_ way," Estell spoke with a half-smile, pointing towards the light falling into the temple via the gently flowing water. Almost the entire wall was open there, up to the ceiling, and pale billowing veils were the only thing separating the elves from the outside world. The group moved through them, and Estell shielded his eyes as he pushed aside more and more layers of veils and the sunlight grew stronger. Sora joined him, and as they emerged outside a radiant grin formed on her face. 

The contrast with the leper district couldn't have been greater. Out here awaited a spectacle of fertile earth, green vegetation – both lush undergrowth and trees towering over them dozens of meters – and water, more water than they'd seen in one place in days. The Kemetis was even more impressive up close, and the sun reflected in the water blindingly, as if the two gods of Ruboria greeted the elves now they ventured out into the open air. 

On the other side of the river, beyond another broad ribbon of green, was the other side of Napata. A glance east and west told Estell there were no bridges between the two parts, but the river was teeming with small ships topped off with tall, triangular white sails hurting his eyes almost as much as the water itself. 

One of those ships lay docked at a broad jetty straight ahead. Estell couldn't believe his luck.  
The elves quietly approached it through the undergrowth, their brand-new silvery and gilded weapons ready in case it was guarded. Gnarl chuckled; _"Such a small felucca most often has just one boatman, guys. Easy does it. Maybe he was even at the mass and he fled along with all the others."  
_

"We can't be careful enough," Estell replied. 

"_Not in this stage of world domination you can't. But don't you feel like spilling a little blood? I'm craving it by now."_

"You may have bombarded me with the position of your Master, you're not making a bloodthirsty Overlord of me, Gnarl." 

"_I can try."_

Sora arrived at the ship first, curious as she was, and she peered over the side. "Gnarl's right – one boatman. There." She pointed, and Estell followed her gaze. He laughed to himself quietly. Their luck was incredible. 

The boatman was busy extending his siesta in the shade of a piece of spare sail cloth. Not a very religious man, apparently. 

Estell, Talmar and Arandor silently hopped onto the deck and approached the sleeping Ruborian – a simple man donning a bandana and a large black moustache. They looked at each other briefly, nodded and grabbed his arms and legs. Before the boatman had a chance to react they'd thrown him overboard, where he awoke, spluttering and screaming in the cool Kemetis water. As he started to realize he'd have to tread water the other elves jumped aboard, freed the sail and punted the ship away from the jetty with the long poles available for it. 

"You could have asked!" the boatman yelled as he gave up his attempts to climb back on board – his hands were consistently pushed away by the elves – and instead swam to the jetty. "I'd have done it for free! Really!" 

"We're not taking risks," Estell called back in his best Ruborian. "We're sorry!" 

The Ruborian seemed to realize only now that the hijackers weren't from Napata, and his dark eyes widened. Then he ran off, probably to tell half the city he'd seen a group of elves. 

"There goes our secrecy," Estell sighed. 

"He'll never be fast enough to ruin it for us," Sora comforted him. "We'll reach the palace soon enough, then it's a matter of finding the Hive and the Minions, and singing a Flower Gate on the spot!" 

"It has to be in earth, I can't do it on a stone floor," Isil added nervously. 

"That'll be alright. What can go wrong now? Look how close we are, armed and all… here we come, Borvar, but we're arriving in a different fashion than you'd expected!" Sora looked out across the Kemetis with shining eyes, at the palace dominating the city before them, on the same side of the river as the water goddess' temple.

Estell wrapped an arm around her, just above the bombs and the huge gilded blade on her belt. "Thanks for being here," he spoke with a smile. "Without that sunny outlook on life I wouldn't have had the courage to come to Napata, let alone plunder temples or steal ships." 

She looked at him sideways. "You attacked the slavers without me. Catapulting a ballistic sled between sand worms in broad daylight is a lot more reckless than quietly running across the rooftops of a city in siesta, you know." She grinned. "You can do more than you think, remember that."

The elven felucca passed a few other ships on the river, but none of the boatmen seemed to pay them much heed. Granted, Estell, Sora and the other more striking elves were lying flat on deck when it happened as a precaution; the young prince left being seen to more Ruborian-looking elves like Talmar and Miril, tanned and dark-haired. Their ears were sticking up through their hair, but the elves flattened them as far as they could. 

As the palace started towering over them Estell tapped Talmar's leg. "A little further." 

"Good idea, it's pretty busy here." 

Estell peered over the side of the ship. The palace opened to the river, and inside lay something he could only describe as a huge, magnificently decorated inside harbour, held by the palace's pale walls. Like in Kemetis' temple the river flowed into the palace, so ships could freely sail in and dock on shaded piers of white stone and dark wood. Estell caught a glimpse of painted walls and gilded statues like they'd seen in the sun god's temple, but less sinister in appearance. 

He looked up. The blue sky was skewered on white towers with blinding golden tops, full of vaulted, glassless windows. This was the last place he'd expected to be dealing with a dwarven official. He felt something of the indignation Gnarl displayed all the time. "The dwarves really don't belong here." 

"_You tell me,"_ the advisor replied. _"Ruboria was ours. Good people, strong and not afraid to kill. Look at them now. That bunch of beer-soaked beards tells them their goddess is the daughter of that bloody dwarven volcano and they throw themselves at __their__ feet. I should have known that humans, all humans, are as loyal as rotten potatoes."  
_

"Then it's a good thing you aren't working with humans," Estell smiled. 

"_That's one advantage, yes,"_ Gnarl chuckled. _"It's up to you to prove there's more than just that."  
_

"I'll work on it." The elf glanced up. "This seems like a good spot." 

Straight above them was an elegantly shaped window in the pale palace wall. From up close it was visible that, just like all others, it was framed in blue and golden mosaic, in better shape than that of Kemetis' temple. "Isil? Are you up to it?" 

The young plant singer got to his feet, took a flat, oval seed from his pouch and blew on it gently. It unfolded two paper-thin, silvery wings. The boy looked back briefly. "It's just as hot as Everlight here, right?" 

"I wouldn't know. I've never been there." Estell nodded at the boy encouragingly. "You'll be fine." 

Isil looked at the winged seed in his hand, then puffed up his cheeks and blew at it again, much harder this time. It flew out of his fingers, soared up in an elegant arch, spun around for a moment and then descended to the window slowly. It disappeared inside. A little later, as Isil started singing, a green vine snaked out, reacting to and drawn to his voice. The tip felt its way down lower and lower and then anchored itself in the felucca's wood with delicate, but very strong roots. 

Estell grinned. He knew these vines were used in Orntal and other tropical elven settlements, including the Ruborian Sanctuary; they were very important at the start of the building process, or even the founding of a new city. "Very good, you're a natural, Isil!" He briefly looked on as the vine thickened, a new strand wrapped around the first one, and the roots attached more firmly, then he grasped the vine – it was stronger than a rope of the same thickness by now – and hooked his feet into it as well. "Goddess watch over us, we're going in." He climbed up, and the others followed him one after the other. No other ships were close at the moment, but this was rather conspicuous, so he was praying they wouldn't be seen before it would be too late. It would take the palace guard some time to catch them here, but still. 

Estell could clearly tell when he entered the palace as the heat fell off him and he was suddenly surrounded by cool marble and gleaming floors, covered in geometrical patterns in dark blue and mossy green. He breathed in deeply, relieved and glad with the change, and gratefully threw off his hood. 

"Very well," he spoke, looking around at the others entering. "Now it's just a matter of finding the Minions and not being seen…" 

"_And spilling some blood in the process,"_ Gnarl added. _"You could use it, boy, and your Minions have to be able to recognize you!"  
_

Sora gently squeezed his shoulder, pulled her gilded cleaver from her belt and gripped it firmly as she stepped out in front of him, into the Ruling Hammer's bastion.

**Well this is certainly an unusual turn of events, though looking at elf tactics it does seem apt for them to sneak around rather than break through the front door. Please review readers.**


	7. The Serpent and the Worm Part 2

**I do not claim the brilliantness that is this story, all credit and respect to Sunjinjo.**

**The Serpent and the Worm Part 2**

Not very far from there, the blue Minions were struggling with the heat. 

They'd found themselves in a hellishly lit chamber, almost in the top of one of the great pale towers of the palace. Above and below them a winding stairs cut through the tower, separating floors, but every step consisted completely of stained glass. The same was true of the floor; the stairs and the floors below were clearly visible straight through a complicated, glistening image reminiscent of a sun with angular rays reaching for the walls. 

Almost every bit of wall not hung with red and golden tapestries was opened to the outside world in geometrically shaped windows, and an overwhelming amount of sunlight fell into the tower, reflecting off gilded, jewel-studded pillars, and arriving at the Minions in dazzling colour. With the light came the heat. 

The blues would have complained if they'd had the energy for it, or if the dwarven overseers hadn't been there. They weren't armed, not even with whips, but there had been threats of throwing every Minion that didn't fulfil his task out of the city. That was probably not far enough from the Hive to die, but a half-dead blue didn't stand much of a chance of walking around the city through the desert and reaching the river in time. 

Right now, the blues were chained together by means of connected collars. They formed a pitiful group in the heart of the chamber, and they ceaselessly performed their task. 

People were coming into the tower continuously; people with missing hair, tainted skin and missing limbs. Some were blind and assisted by another. They shuffled up along the colourful stairs to be healed by the blues, but the Minions didn't get much satisfaction from a job well done, as the healed patients left the tower the same way they came in, closely along the diseased. 

Zap, the old, pale Minion with the missing right arm, had been most clear-minded during their assembly into the palace and had heard one of the dwarves say the lepers were to pay the Ruling Hammer for their healing. It was clear that money was more important to the Napatese ruler than the lives of the Ruborians he ruled; it was only advantageous to him if they were infected again. They'd be here for quite a while; Borvar wanted to milk his city for a little longer before he'd hand them over to Stodir. 

But they were alive. The blue clan had been thinned to about twenty members, they were dying of heat and thirst, and they'd fallen into enemy hands, but they were still alive, and apparently valuable enough to the dwarves to stay that way. And as Zap kept insisting: Evil would find a way. 

"This isn't so bad," Silt, a younger individual, remarked. "I could get used to this. I mean, the clan has had it worse between Masters." 

"Not much will ever be as bad as the Imperial dungeons beneath Arcadiopolis' Arena, where I lost my arm," Zap nodded, "but do you really want to heal dwarves for the rest of your life? Never see the others again? We belong to a Master. And I think we'll have it worse once we get transported to Stodir." He glanced at the two dwarven overseers, seated on cushioned benches at the passage in the airy wall, leading to the rest of the palace. The entire wall consisted of windows and passages, increasing the tower's transparent theme. The old Minion was under the impression this part of the palace symbolized light and colour, and the opposite part had more to do with coolness and water. Lord Borvar possessed a sense of humour he recognized. 

Zap looked away again. "And not everyone could get used to this, Silt. Look at what it's doing to Thud." 

The blue clan was attached to each other with chains, but halfway down the group the line collapsed. A single, almost spherical blue Minion had slumped down to the colourful glass floor, like a senseless blue puddle. With that, he pulled down the Minions next to him, but they were trying hard to stand upright – the dwarven overseers had made quite clear what would happen if they gave up. They hadn't managed to get Thud back on his feet, however – he'd slump down as fast as they hoisted him up, incoherently rambling about cool ice cubes and colourful little umbrellas. 

The ceaseless stream of lepers cast a strange glance at the barely conscious Minion every now and then, but mainly reacted to their healing with grateful mumbling and low bows.

The blue Minions did understand Ruborian, but barely reacted to this gratitude. 

Zap briefly laid his one pale hand on the shoulder of the Minion next to him; Drip, the field leader of the blue horde. As such, he had the responsibility to ensure the clan's safety and health, and it was clear from his expression that he also blamed himself for the poor state of both. "At least we're out of the desert, Drip." 

The larger Minion opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it again. His amber gaze was suddenly rigid, fixed on a point above the doorway the dwarves were in. Zap followed his gaze, and his round frog eyes widened. 

In the geometrical, flower-like opening above the doorway an elf was crouching; an elf with long, pale hair and piercing blue eyes, his fingers tensely closed around the hilt of a familiar-looking sword. Zap's four fingers tensed. Why not. The elf from the desert. Apparently light magic was trying to get a foothold again… and after what had happened in the previous age, they certainly would not have the intention of sparing the Minions. 

The elf looked back, nodded briefly, and then everything suddenly happened very fast. He and two others let themselves fall down, and two slender blades and a blinding, broad gilded cleaver stabbed and hacked at the dwarves. They had been wearing armour, but it consisted only of a steel breastplate and shoulder pieces – it was very hot and the blues weren't going to harm them in any case. The elves took the advantage of a surprise attack and cut through to the dwarves' throats after the exchange of a few blows. 

The trespassers turned to the inside of the tower. More elves came in through the flowery opening, to land behind the white-haired leader and his blonde and black-haired companions. Briefly, the sound of their feet to the glass floor was the only sound, but then panic arose. The Ruborians didn't know how fast to rush down the stairs again. The elves looked down, through the floor, but it was clear the people didn't pose a threat. 

The white-haired leader stepped forward, to the blues. They stared back coldly, and backed away slightly – there was nothing they could do. The blue clan wasn't built for battle, and even the horde leader was unarmed. 

As the elf really came too close Drip stepped forward in desperation, spread out the fins at the sides of his face and hissed, his mouth open wide, showing all his needle-like teeth.

More Minions followed that example. The horde leader saw, with a bitter kind of satisfaction, how the elf stepped back, but then something happened that made his hiss die away and his mouth remain open in bafflement. 

"_Boys, boys, I'm so __**proud**__ of you!"  
_

A creaky, very familiar voice, unheard for over two years, and for a moment Drip was certain the heat had finally made him snap. He closed his mouth and swallowed. "…Gnarl?" 

"_The one and only! Meet your new Master!"_

Nineteen pairs of round, glowing eyes fell like bricks, off the elf's face and to his left hand. A leather gauntlet, a soft amber glow… 

_A new Master. Gnarl found him. We're back in action._ Drip's mind reeled for a moment, then he looked back up into the blue eyes, a very different expression in his own. He laid back his fins and bowed his head. "Master," he spoke solemnly. "It's an honour. We will serve you, loyal beyond death." He had mixed feelings about the fact their new Master was an elf, but there was only one thing a Minion could do in this situation.

A jolt coursed through Estell's body with those words. The other blue Minions followed their leader's example and submitted to him, without him having to prove himself, without them even knowing him. They trusted him completely. It baffled him. _Is this… also what it means to be an Overlord? Not just darkness and death, but also trust? This unconditional support?_ He looked down on the biggest Minion. "I'm Estell, the son of… Overlady Jinx' predecessor." He was unable to read anything from the blue faces as they rose back to him. The round, glowing eyes were utterly alien to him, the rubbery lips betrayed no emotion he could recognize – the Minions might have sworn loyalty to him, but they didn't seem happy. Estell shook it off. "We'll get you out of here. Let's hurry. Where's your Hive?" 

"They took her all the way up… she's probably with Borvar." The one speaking now was pale blue and fragile, and his right arm ended almost immediately at the shoulder. "I don't doubt the fact you will succeed in getting her back, Master." 

"This is Zap, the horde leader," Gnarl spoke. "I can't wait to welcome you here, old friend."  
Zap smiled. "I missed you too." Then he frowned briefly, and looked at a point above Estell's shoulder. "What's this?" 

Estell looked up, to see Shadow floating forward hesitantly. "This is Shadow, my… counterpart." 

"_Yes, we haven't completely sorted that out yet,"_ Gnarl remarked. _"All in good time."_

Zap outstretched his hand, and Shadow descended to him. The pale, webbed fingers touched his shoulder, and didn't pass through. Shadow froze, and then pulled back very rapidly, without uttering a word. 

Estell stared at the Minion, then the others. "You can touch him?" 

"_Blue Minions are the most magically gifted of the clans,"_ Gnarl spoke. _"I've seen them strangling the souls of your dead with their bare hands."_ He chuckled. _"We didn't mean anything by it at the time."  
_

What did this mean for Shadow? Would every new encounter with Evil turn into new revelations? Did his heritage really lie here? 

Estell shook himself. "It can't be long before they find out. Let's go." 

"_I advise you to take a few Minions with you, Lord. You never know what's waiting, and it's often for the best if they carry their Hive."  
_

"Fine." Estell turned away. "Isil, do you think you can handle the lock?" 

"I'm not that precise yet." The boy was already holding a seed, and sang it to life with a few words. "I need a little help." 

Every elf could manipulate plants; plant singers were unique in the fact that they could call them to life. Queen Fay had taken that to another level by managing to call every type of vegetation out of nothing, but very few elves had ever achieved that amount of control. That didn't make Estell feel any better, however, as Talmar knelt down and led Isil's shoot into the lock securing the blues' chain. A few seconds later it shot open and the chain rattled through their collars and onto the floor. The blues were free, save for their collars. 

They were his. He could command them. "You, come along," he spoke with a gesture at the healthy Minions around the largest one. "Sora, Isil, Miril, you're coming as well. The rest stays here. Pull the chain back through the collars and hide, but keep both eyes on the Minions. We'll be back as soon as we can." 

"That does seem useful," Talmar remarked. "Though it seems not much attention is being given to the people running out of the palace." 

"If they come to check it must seem as if nothing's happened…" 

"We'll be fine! Go!" Arandor flapped at them. As Estell and his group hurried away through the passage to the rest of the palace he crouched down next to the Minions to tend to the chain. "Very strange to see you like this. I remember you frenzying in Orntal, in the palace lake…" 

"We're a bit more capable in water," one of the Minions nodded. 

"Not all of you, I wager," the golden-blond elf remarked, glancing at Thud. 

"He's a special case," the blue sighed. "We'll get him up if we really have to…"

_"Master, this is Drip, Trickle, Silt, Clam, Gills and Shark. Drip's been field leader for a few years now,"_ Gnarl spoke with more than a hint of excitement as the elves and the six Minions hurried up immaculate white marble stairs. Estell remembered how the palace had looked from the outside; a blinding mountain of a building, increasingly taller towards the heart. He assumed he'd have to get used to climbing stairs as an Overlord, even though he didn't have a tower of his own. 

"I don't know if I'm going to remember all your names," he spoke. "I've met so many new people –" 

His voice faltered only as it was already too late. He'd heard the rumbling voices a little further away, but he'd also been heard already. Metallic footfalls on marble halted, the elves ran on too far and arrived at the top of the stairs, and they were face to face with two new dwarves, steel tips to their boots and halberds across their shoulders. Briefly elf, dwarf and Minion were frozen in place, then pointy ends were pointed both ways. The eyes of the dwarves fell to the Minions, and widened. "An outbreak?" it rumbled. "That shouldn't be possible…" 

"Seems it is," Estell replied, and lunged. His weapon grazed the dwarf's arm piece, however – this one was better protected, perhaps because he kept guard closer to his commander – and he stumbled, towards the second guard. He, in his turn, stabbed his halberd forward and Estell felt the cool steel break his skin just below his collarbone in an explosion of pain. 

Miril yanked him back and rammed his silvery dagger into the dwarf's neck. The other guard slumped to the ground as well, but that was also true of Isil – the boy had come too close in his overconfidence and had suffered a massive gash to the chest. Blood gulped over his tunic – too much blood. 

The now slightly less immaculate hallway quieted down, save for the painful panting. Isil whimpered. 

"_Well, we got that over with,"_ Gnarl remarked dryly. _"Get used to it, Master. This isn't your last injury."  
_

Estell realized he didn't know a swear word powerful enough for this situation. Instead of venting his rage towards his advisor, he dropped next to Isil. "Isil, look at me. It's going to be fine." He could almost forget his own pain… 

…perhaps because it was actually gone. 

He looked down. All that remained were some blue sparks flying around the torn fabric of his robe. He looked around. 

The largest blue Minion, Drip, waved his webbed hand to lose the sparks. As Estell looked on a second one stepped around him and treated Isil. 

"_Did I mention blue Minions are first-class healers?"  
_

"I didn't know they were this good," Estell uttered. "And to be honest I wasn't paying perfect attention to what you told me." 

The advisor chuckled. _"I noticed. Now, do I have your word that you'll listen when I tell you something?"  
_

"Yes," the Overlord replied. "You do now." He turned back to the Minions. "Thank you. This is invaluable." 

"A Master does not thank his Minions," Drip snickered. "This is an obvious thing." 

"_Well, Mistress Jinx just kept going,"_ Gnarl remarked. 

"She was… a special case." 

Estell hoisted himself and Isil up. The boy was trembling, but more out of fright than anything else. He strode forward at a brisk pace. "A special case?" 

"_Part Minion. She was a part of the horde, didn't stand above it completely. She designed her domain for us, not for herself and some power-hungry Master lusting after money and pretty trinkets."  
_

Estell glanced around. "So the average Overlord follows Borvar's method?" 

"_You could say so."  
_

They were clearly approaching the heart of the palace. These great, sunlit halls were almost caked shut with gold and jewels, many of them worked into snake-like designs reminding Estell of what they'd seen on the walls of Kemetis' temple. As the elf looked harder he recognized actual water serpents, with scaly bodies and fanning head fins reminding him of those of the blue Minions. As he looked harder still, however, he noticed something was off, a mistake returning again and again… 

Something was wrong with the snakes' mouths. No teeth, but instead a strange form he was briefly unable to place, but then recognized as something fundamentally dwarven. Taps. The walls were covered in beer taps. 

Sora chuckled. "Well, it's true. Half the palace consists of pipelines." 

"_He's an Ucat Zuden, he's supposed to have them,"_ Gnarl replied_. "Dwarves have no word for 'alcoholic', but the brewer clan takes it to unexplored depths of the glass – they drink more than Minions."  
_

"Minions drink a lot?" Shadow asked. 

"_You're joking? A Minion, given the chance, will outdrink dwarves of any other clan. They know the same berserker rage."_ Gnarl paused. _"But they won't go as far as constructing beer baths."  
_

"Beer… _baths?_" 

"Hum, Estell…" 

The gleaming golden walls had opened up in a huge vaulted passage, framed by silky, pale curtains and an explosion of blue and golden mosaic. Shadow was the first to see what lay beyond. 

A huge chamber, the walls dominated by giant gilded reliefs of water serpents, snaking up from frozen marble waves. In the corners of the hall the animals curved off the walls and over that which dominated the floor; a great basin, filled with foaming water of a very strange colour… 

It took a moment before Estell realized he'd never seen this much beer in one place before. That was also the moment he realized what dominated the _ceiling_. A huge copper contraption curved down above the beer bath, hollow at the bottom and crowned with a flattened lever at the top, for which an elf would need his entire weight to shift. A giant tap.  
Straight underneath the tap, in the beer bath and amidst the foam, his hairy chest just visible, was a single dwarf with a full auburn beard. He sat upright under their gaze, but seemed too surprised to speak for now. 

"_I give you Lord Borvar, Master. Probably."  
_

"Borvar," Sora growled. Her eyes narrowed. "So you thought you could order me down to amuse you at your next drunken party? I thought something else." 

Estell quickly grabbed her shoulder and held her back. "Don't… attack," he spoke with emphasis. "He probably has quite a few guards on this floor. Let's not complicate matters…"

His eyes shot to the right, and he heard Gnarl gasp in exhilaration. There, sitting in a smaller bath filled with clear water, was a blue, coral-like growth, about as tall as himself. It was topped by cup-like structures, filled with pink orbs resembling eggs_. "The blue Hive!"_ the advisor exclaimed. _"Grab her!"_

"I had not expected the new Overlord to be an elf," it then rumbled from the beer bath.

Estell jolted back and saw Borvar hoisting himself up. He clearly wasn't capable of walking in a straight line, but that soon wouldn't matter anymore. Small eyes beneath bushy eyebrows bored into his. "I hadn't thought you'd go after this bunch of milk-drinkers first. No matter. It'll be your last mistake… _Nazush!_" he roared. 

"_He's calling his guards, Master,"_ Gnarl remarked. 

"Over my dead body!" Sora shouted. She sprinted forward, her gilded blade raised up high. She arrived at Borvar, but he rose to his feet with an unexpectedly fluid motion and beat her back with a single blow of his hammy fist. That move had him fall backwards into the foam. 

Estell had tailed her and caught her as she fell. "Don't fight!" He nodded upwards. "Can you jump that far?" 

"Nice idea," she grinned. Not a second later she'd vanished from his arms, bouncing up along the gilded snake heads lining the walls like a spring. Estell followed her with his eyes as she jumped for the giant tap straight above Borvar, strained her entire body and opened it. 

A roaring golden waterfall was unleashed from the ceiling. Borvar uttered the beginning of a furious sound, but then disappeared in an explosion of foam. 

"Get the Hive!" Estell called at the blues above the rush of the beer. "We're done here!" He could hear Gnarl laughing as if he hadn't had this much fun in ages. "What's so funny?" 

"_Do you have any idea how long it's been?"_ the advisor uttered_. "Minions! Chaos! Guards with pointy weaponry!"  
_

"What?" Estell spun around, cast a glance at the bejewelled passage and backed away. Gnarl was right; whatever _Nazush_ had meant, Borvar's guards had reacted to it, and they didn't just consist of dwarves they could jump over; at least half of them were Ruborian, and even the dwarves once again compensated with tall halberds. 

However, before one of both parties could react, the beer bath behind the elves overflowed, and a few of them lost their footing and fell backwards. A heartbeat later the beer reached the dwarves and Ruborians, and some of them fell into the foam face-first as well. The dwarves needed a moment to raise their faces and shake the foam from their beards. At that time Sora and Miril had already reached them and the sound of metal to metal sang through the hall. 

Estell looked to the side. The blues were swimming through the beer towards the Hive with surprising speed, and the coral-like object was gently lifted from her own bath by the current. Then, before his eyes, something very strange happened; the Hive unfolded long, elegant flaps on her underside, and then moved through the rising fluid by herself, like a strange sea creature. The blues only had to steer. 

"So that's how they could escape swimming," Estell heard himself say. 

"_Not the first time they did so,"_ Gnarl replied_. "Very good, Master. Swim! Swim back to the glass tower!"  
_

The white-haired elf realized he'd indeed have to swim; even though the beer was gushing through the gleaming, sunlit halls and down stairs everywhere, the level was still rising and his feet were gently lifted off the marble floor. Isil, being shorter than him, was already treading beer. The blues and the Hive swam past them, Drip pushing down Ruborians and dwarves to all sides. A younger individual brought his hands to his jaw, but the horde leader pulled his fingers away. "Not here, if you swallow that much we're sure to lose you!" 

"But the beer rage!" The young Minion looked at his horde leader with gleaming eyes. "I already want to disembowel them, Drip…" 

"We're blues," the leader sighed. "We're not built for battle. If you'd have been a brown you could have." He planted his webbed hand on a dwarven helmet again and lifted himself over his opponent; the dwarves, being heavy and armoured, didn't float so well. Behind him the elves were still fighting furiously, the foam splashing up higher and higher. Even further back Borvar was roaring in rage. Drip realized the elves were having trouble with the fight and blood was starting to mingle with the beer. He grimaced and dove under the surface, followed by Trickle and Silt, all carefully keeping their mouths shut. Once down, he spread his hands and let his magic flow.

The elves fought with everything they had, whirling, hacking and stabbing with a speed the dwarves and Ruborians would never be able to match, even chest-high in rising beer. However, they were as good as surrounded and could shield themselves less and less well. Estell's tunic had been ripped and torn all over and the pain of many superficial injuries made it hard to focus. How did the soldiers and warriors from the old stories do this?  
Then a wave of coolness washed over him, having nothing to do with the beer. The pain ebbed away, and even as he fought on he felt his wounds closing. More than that, the new injuries he suffered closed as soon as his opponents' weapons opened them… 

"_A healing field, Master! As long as the blues keep this up, you could do anything you felt like doing, you could even light yourself on fire and not suffer a scratch! Do make use of it soon, they won't keep this up for long…"  
_

"Thank you for this information, Gnarl," he gnashed. He breathed in deeply, and then threw himself squarely at the weapons of his opponents. He used both his sword and arms to work himself over the heads of the palace guard in a great wave of beer, struggling to emerge on the other side where the beer flowed faster, but wasn't as deep. He skidded briefly, into the gilded hall, looked back to see the others struggle free as well, including the blues and the Hive, even as the guards hacked away at them, and then started running at the head of the group. 

Sora reached him, completely soaked and with foam in her hair. She grinned more wildly than ever. "Back to the glass tower?" she asked. 

"Yes," Estell panted. "But what then? Isil won't be able to sing a Gate there!" 

"We have to reach the riverside, that's the closest fertile soil," the boy uttered as he caught up with them. "But there's kind of a wall between the blues and the river." 

Sora's eyes started to shine. "There won't be for long," she spoke guilefully, tapping her belt. Then she laughed, ran along the wall and opened all the taps worked into the reliefs of snake heads. The beer rose ever faster.

**(TOWER)**

"So you can't really breathe under water?" 

The blue Minion shook his head, making his chains jingle. "No. We don't have gills and have to rise to the surface for air, but we can hold our breath for longer than you… and certainly longer than other Minions. The other three clans can't swim and mostly drown immediately." 

"Strange," Arandor pondered from the high window overlooking the rest of Napata. His legs dangled into the tower. "You'd think they could learn." 

"We've tried for a few thousand years," the Minion grinned. "It's not working." 

A hiss rose from opposite the golden-haired elf, but not from any of the blues in the tower; another, black-haired elf crouched in the opening above the passage to the rest of the palace, with purple eyes and murder in his gaze. "Will you be quiet, Arandor? Guards could turn up at any minute! And hide!" 

"Easy, Talmar," Arandor smiled. "It seems Estell is keeping them quite busy." 

"Not funny!" Talmar furiously wondered how Arandor could be so interested in the Minions – he'd fought in the battle for Orntal, he should hate them even more than the younger elf did! But instead he'd been chatting with the more active blues for a while… 

Then his purple eyes caught movement on the glass floor. For a moment he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, for how could glass flow? Then he realized something was actually flowing across the floor – a yellowy fluid, mixed with foam… 

The blues lifted their webbed feet and stared at it briefly. One of them dipped his finger in and tasted. "…Beer?" 

"Beer?" it echoed, very feebly. Some Minions looked around at their fattest clan member. "Thud, you're awake!" 

Thud flopped over in his chains, so his face pressed against the floor, a mighty slurping sound arose, and then, so swiftly the elves could barely follow it, he was suddenly standing upright and in combat position. "What's happening? Where are we? Where's the meat?" 

Talmar perked his ears. From behind him and the other elves keeping watch, deeper into the palace, running footsteps were coming closer. He caught urgent shouting. "I think the meat's about to arrive," he remarked. "Guys, into the tower, now!" He let himself fall down with the Minions, followed by Arandor and the others. Not a moment early; half a second later the seeping beer turned into an actual wave which started flowing down the stairs, and Estell, Sora, Isil and Miril burst into the tower, followed by the six blues they'd taken along, carrying the Hive on their shoulders. Talmar stared at it as the Minions started cheering. Such a strange shape, so essential for Evil... He shook himself and joined his panting friend. "Trouble?" 

"More than enough," the young Overlord uttered. He looked back feverishly, just in time to see the first steel-clad dwarf thunder down the stairs, followed by the rest of the palace guard. Behind them, in turn, came Lord Borvar, wearing a lopsided robe. His beard stood up in beery spikes and he was clearly furious, and not even just because of the beer he'd had, but also because of the beer he _hadn't_ had. 

"You'll never get out!" he called over his guards. "The way out is past us!" 

"Not the only way," Sora countered. She raised a hand, clutching a gleaming spherical bomb. Then she shot past the blues, down the winding stairs, and the others didn't know how fast to follow her. They descended down the tower in dizzying circles, lit by ever-changing light, past too many jewels to count and golden reliefs of devouring jaws and armour plates. Where Borvar's part of the palace had featured water, water serpents and – a recent addition – beer, this tower seemed to feature sunlight and sand worms. Estell didn't have time to ponder the Ruborian architecture and symbolic meanings of this, however. The beer made the glass stairs slippery, and it didn't take long for him to slip, falling into Talmar, and a heartbeat later the same happened to Arandor behind him. Before they knew it the entire group was tumbling down the stairs, to land on the glass floor of a lower story in a disorganized heap – fortunately, they'd almost been there to begin with. 

Their fall had slowed them down, however, and they didn't get up fast enough to let the blues pass, who were miraculously still on their feet and carrying the Hive in six cases. Estell and Sora were among the first to get up again, and the two exchanged glances. "May I?" Sora asked. 

Estell nodded, paling. He looked back at the Minions. "Can you create a healing field again?" 

Drip stared at him, but then nodded and briefly shut his eyes. A moment later the characteristic cool washed over the elves again. Estell turned to Sora. "Go for it," he uttered, with a much steadier voice than he'd expected. 

Sora pulled bombs from her belt with both hands and flung them at the marble wall before them, but before the point where the stairs ended. The dwarves tailing them shouted and tried to turn back, but too late, too late… 

The explosion blossomed, blinding and deafening and devouringly hot, and Estell felt his tunic and skin being burnt off his body, but he was healing at the same staggering rate. In the inferno he could barely see how the same applied to the other elves, the Minions and the Hive… but it didn't happen to the dwarves, and certainly not to the walls and the floor.  
As she fell Sora yanked the other two bombs from her belt and threw them into the fire. The flashing light fell through all the stained glass in the tower even as it shattered, spinning around them in thousands of lethal shards, unable to harm them regardless. 

Then gravity grabbed them by the scruff of their neck too, and Estell almost couldn't focus on the pain through the dizzying sensation of his stomach flying up into his throat as he, the others and the Hive were flung out of the tower. The explosion died away, the street came up to greet him, and another variant of pain shot through his body.

It probably was mere seconds later as he stared up at a blue face against a smoky blue sky, framed by translucent fins. Drip shook his shoulders. "Master, are you alright?" 

"No," Estell groaned. 

"_No matter!"_ Gnarl called out far too close to his ear. _"Run!"_

The elf scrambled to his feet. He'd been lying in the centre of a wide circle of debris, in a logically deserted square next to the palace – all the people had probably fled and were now beholding them from the building close to the palace. He looked around. "Where…" His gaze focused. His companions and Minions were still busy getting up and healing each other, though it seemed the blues were having increasing trouble with that. The ones already standing upright were clearly eager to get going. Isil was among them. Estell caught his eyes.

"Run," he uttered. "To the river, sing a gate!" 

Isil nodded and flew off, followed by Arandor and Miril, their weapons drawn to protect him, and enough blues to carry the Hive. A blue aura of healing still floated around the coral-like object, and Estell could only hope it hadn't been damaged too extensively. 

Sora and Talmar lay draped over a few chunks of debris, busy waking up under the hurried care of a few blues. Both were no longer hurt, but it was clear they had been; part of their hair and clothes had been singed off and they were covered in soot like everybody else.

Estell ran to them and helped them up. Sora opened her eyes. "That was fun," she muttered with a painful grin. 

"Let's never do that again." The white-haired elf cast a glance over her and swore quietly. They'd taken a detour to get out of the palace, but the remaining guards were still after them. The sunlight falling in through the cloud of smoke above them gleamed on steel breast plates and sharp weaponry coming closer rapidly. He looked around. Everyone was conscious. "Can you run?" 

"We'll have to," Talmar nodded. He tested his legs and sprinted a small distance. "Come on!" 

Estell supported Sora worriedly for a moment, but she waved him away. "I'm fine!" She ran after Talmar. "Are you coming or what?" 

He did as she said, but still kept an eye on her. Together the elves and Minion sprinted around the palace, and into a wall of people. Before them was a broad street lined by white buildings with flat roof terraces, loud market stands and perfumed tea houses. All at once the elves were considerably slowed as they had to squeeze between the people. "Sorry!" Estell shouted. "_Assif… assif!_" He looked around feverishly, but didn't see Isil or the others anywhere. Then he caught a shimmering light, all the way at the end of the long street; sunlight on water, and he briefly thanked both the Mother Goddess and the twin gods of Ruboria. That's where Isil would be. That's where the Flower Gate was. That was the light at the end of the tunnel… 

He was so enthusiastic he completely missed the rumble, and didn't even hear Shadow's warning cry before it was too late. Ruborians leapt away in panic all around him. 

To his left, something monstrous rolled into his field of vision. Steel towered over him, shining blindingly in the sunlight; spiked treads, an eight-sided turret, and the barrel, extending towards him straight out of his nightmares. It was the last dwarven tank of Napata. 

The thing moved fast, but not fast enough; it took a moment for Estell to realize what was coming at him, but he could get away in time, half running, half diving, coming to a skidding halt on the cobblestones. Behind him the machine belched forth a devouring stream of flame. 

They really wanted to kill him badly. Someone had to have escaped the palace to inform the tank's driver… perhaps as soon as the moment Borvar had called for his guards, just in case he'd escape the palace… 

_Do we have to deal with… this?_

"Estell!" 

He almost broke his own neck, he looked back that fast. The flames died away, but the machine rolled on, and there were still elves on the other side of it. Sora was among them. He tripped as he turned around. "Sora!" He ran to her, but backed away as the turret started turning. A hatch opened, and a dwarven crossbow was pointed at him even before the barrel could be aimed. Estell almost danced back, and a heavy arrow ricocheted off the street. "Jump!" he called out at the elves on the other side. "Come on!" 

But the palace guard was already with them, and the elves were forced to defend themselves. He saw how Sora tried to jump over or under the barrel, but she didn't manage; she hadn't recovered completely, and now she too had to use her blade again. A new arrow came Estell's way, and now someone else dragged him back. He looked around and into Talmar's eyes. "We have to get out!" 

"_He's right, Master,"_ Gnarl blared. _"They'll discover the Gate! Nobody's back yet!"_

"But…" The young Overlord desperately turned back. "Sora!" he shouted in anguish. 

"Run, Estell," it resounded from the other side. Sora sounded exhausted and broken, but still hard as nails; it was clear she meant it. "You can do this without me!" 

"No…" Estell was aware of his Minions pulling at him, but he was still fighting them. It was only because of Talmar's pure strength of will that he was eventually dragged away. "No!" 

The tank's barrel turned to them completely, but they were moving too fast and the flames didn't reach them. White walls and dark people flew past in a haze and turned to emerald undergrowth, and suddenly there were the glistening petals of Isil's Flower Gate…

The next thing he felt, through the burning of his entire body, was the coolness of the cave of the sandstone tower, miles and miles south of Napata. He struggled wildly in Talmar's grip, turned back to the central Flower Gate, but a firm whack to the back of his head had him fall down, his arms outstretched to the blue glow. 

"_None of that. We need you alive."_ Irritation resounded in the familiar creaky voice. 

_Sora. Sora. Sora._

"I curse you to every hell there is, Gnarl…" Estell rolled over and furiously stared up into his advisor's yellow eyes. "Let me go back! Let me save her like I saved your Minions!" 

"_That's a very bad idea, __**Master**__,"_ the grey Minion growled. _"And they're not my Minions, they're yours! They're an invaluable addition…"  
_

"Worth more than Sora?! Do you want me to trade her for them?!" 

"_Yes!"_

For a moment they stared at each other in blind fury, Estell from his back, just below Gnarl's eye height. Then he sprung to his feet and drew his sword. For a split second it seemed as though he was about to run it through his advisor, but then it became clear he could not, and he lowered it with trembling hands. Gnarl beheld him with an icy gaze. A little further a gleaming bomber beetle scuttled along the waterside. 

Talmar grabbed his shoulder. "In any case we have the Minions," he spoke helplessly. It was clear he didn't really mean this, but it was all he could do to calm himself. 

"But at what cost?!" 

Gnarl stared at his Master. His expression betrayed nothing, but his bony hands were trembling slightly. _"Unholy Lord, boy, contain yourself. Your father lost two of his Mistresses before he was your age. One elf is a small price to pay for an entire Minion clan."_

The fire in Estell's eyes flared again, and now he was clearly too furious to speak another word. His sword came up again, he turned around with an unarticulated cry and rammed it through the bomber beetle without thinking. A shocked hiss rose from the mortally wounded creature, but Estell didn't seem to care, not even as the others dived away. Blue Minions hurried towards him, but they did not reach him before the shock wave blasted them back. Water, mud and rock flew up, and suddenly Estell was in free fall again, into a much deeper crater than he'd expected… Darkness swallowed him, a shady underground rushed towards him, he heard the breaking of bone even before the pain got through, and then the deepest darkness of all washed over his mind.

In Napata another elf was struggling in another iron grip. She wasn't the only one. Sora and the few other elves that'd stayed behind stared at Borvar and his guards furiously, but helplessly. 

The Ruling Hammer did a bad job of hiding his worries. He'd just barely gotten a hold of the Hive, and the king expected him to hand her over to Stodir as soon as he could. Now he'd lost her, to a new Overlord he'd let escape as well. He had to let Thorlond know of this, but didn't feel like it at all. The king had made it his personal goal to capture and kill the new Overlord while he or she searched for the Minions – as there was no doubt a new one would rise. In the long history of the world, Evil had always found a way. It'd happen again, but it was Thorlond's intention for it to be the last time. The blue Minions had been good bait, but Borvar hadn't anticipated their Master well enough. 

In any case he now held a few of the new Overlord's companions. He'd personally hand them over to the king; perhaps information could be tortured from them, and in any case he wanted to beg his own forgiveness. Perhaps there'd be news of Kerma's surrender and the dethroning of the Ruborian 'king' by then, which would brighten Thorlond's mood... 

The Ruling Hammer growled at the thought of his ruined palace and wasted beer. This new Overlord was quite annoying. He'd have to warn the king, and make sure the other Minions were guarded better...

Estell opened his eyes and immediately shielded them with his hands. A golden light shone straight into his face and blinded him. He blinked and focused his gaze. 

Sora was standing right in front of him, her gilded blade raised up high so it caught the sunlight. She looked up at the weapon in admiration, shining almost as brightly as the sun design in the metal… 

Before Estell could react the image faded, and the weapon's glow turned into an actual sun, a red-golden disc slowly sinking over Napata, into the Sea of Sand. The elf looked up. Something rose to greet the sun; a mountain… a mountain crowned with a giant crater. A volcano. 

Stodir. The sun was setting into Stodir. 

At that moment the young Overlord knew exactly what that meant, with the same certainty with which he knew these were not normal dreams. 

The orange light of sunset flowed over him and then turned smoky and flickering, like fire. The bloody claw from his previous dreams loomed up ahead again, hanging limply over a dark stone edge. He ascended, above the edge, and his eyes slid over the wrist, the arm… 

He gasped. 

A woman lay on the dark stone surface, clad in decorated leather armour and red fabrics.

Black hair was spread out around her head, but her face was inhuman. Her dead, staring eyes were too large, too round, and a trace of golden light still gleamed in their depths. Her ears were long, pointy and frayed. Bony spikes punctured her skin along her jaw line. 

He was dreaming about Overlady Jinx, his predecessor, and had done so even before he'd met Gnarl. 

"No!" Estell pressed his fists to his forehead, overtaken by horror. He'd been forced to trade Sora for Minions he did not want, and now even his dreams were betraying him. "I won't become what she was! I'm not her successor!" 

_Follow the setting sun to Stodir, boy. Win her pride._ A dark snicker rose from the depths below him, to which he did not dare to look. _You're already making so much progress. I'm sure you won't make her mistakes._

"I…" Estell faltered. The dream started fading to a blue haze he recognized. Pain started getting through to him. He was busy waking up. 

_Welcome to your new domain, Lord Estell._

… **Good grief. Personally I am really enjoying this story and hope you are as well. Rather odd that I get to review and upload the story at the same time. Anyway, a massive thank you to Sunjinjo for her fantastic story and please review readers.**


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